


The Syndication Strikes Back!

by Bamboozlepig



Category: Adam-12, Dragnet, Emergency!
Genre: Crossover, Gen, Humor, Language, Parody
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-08
Updated: 2012-01-08
Packaged: 2017-10-29 04:08:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 24,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/315635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bamboozlepig/pseuds/Bamboozlepig
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to When Good Syndication Goes Bad.  Joe Friday and the rest of the Mark VII gang return for more wacky hijinks!</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Syndication Strikes Back!

**Author's Note:**

> Adam-12, Emergency! and Dragnet are the property of MarkVII/Universal, no copyright infringement intended. **ALL ORIGINAL CONTENT OF THIS STORY IS THE SOLE PROPERTY OF BAMBOOZLEPIG AND MAY NOT BE USED WITHOUT PERMISSION.**
> 
> WARNING: Author is not responsible for any damage done to the reader's computer by spewing drinking materials out of the mouth during reading. Reading this story does not make you any smarter/prettier/more handsome/richer than you already are, but it probably, in all likelihood, will make you wet your pants with laughter, so I might suggest taking a potty break NOW, before you read much further. This story is written with tongue very FIRMLY in cheek, and many potshots are taken at our beloved familiar Mark VII Characters, but hey, what good are sacred cows if you can't poke fun at them once in awhile? And yeah, I shamelessly, oh so shamelessly, Mary Sue myself into the storyline, since hey, it's my story and I'll cry if I want to...um, whoops! I've spent too much time listening to my oldies. And sadly, yes, the songs mondegreened in the story by Jim Reed are -ahem- taken from my own dysfunctional hearing. Reviews are welcome and I thank y'all for reading. And again, the site has messed with my formatting so check the correctly formatted story out on ff.net or wwomb. So now, without further ado, I'd like to say...Run, Pudgy Pete, Run!...'Cuz the Devil's in the house of the risin' sun, and OOOHHH NOOOOO!...
> 
>  
> 
> ****

THE SYNDICATION STRIKES BACK!

_**OR** _

HEY! YOU GOT YOUR  _EMERGENCY!_  IN  **MY** _ADAM-12_

YEAH? WELL, YOU GOT  **YOUR** _ADAM-12_ IN MY  _EMERGENCY!_

AND  **SOMEBODY** DOUBLE-DIPPED THEM BOTH IN  _DRAGNET…_ _ **WAAHH!**_

_It is a rather dark and dismal time for the brave and valiant alliance called The Mark VII Characters. Relentlessly pursued by the evil galactic empire known as Wacky Nostalgia Television, or WNTV, led by the evil galactic Dumperor known as…well, the Evil Galactic Dumperor, since High Lord Mister Bam-Bam Rock And Roll Hootchie-Koo FunCuddles Kitten Doodle I Can't Believe It's Not Butter! was WAAAAYYYY too long, not to mention freakin' hilarious, to spit out. He is assisted by his loyal left hand, right hand, and general middle man, named Dork Lord of the Seethe Mister Sniffy Snuffles Ooh-Wah Ooh-Wah Boo-Boo Kitty Pixy-Stix Oh Crap I Think I Left The Iron On, or Cuddleumpkins to his closest friends, and Snorf Nader to his sworn enemies, the Mark VII Characters, and the cable guy. In their evil quest for complete and utter galactic power, plus absolute control over the galactic tv remote…which, ironically, has already caused a spat between the Evil Galactic Dumperor and the Dork Lord, since the Dumperor would MUCH rather watch some informative public television, while the Dork Lord is quite content to watch Fax, the station devoted to showing incoming faxes._

_In any case, using the one station they BOTH can agree on, WNTV, both nasty li'l ol' Evilites tracked the beloved Mark VII Characters, (or, for the INCREDIBLY dumb, the Mark Vye-yi Characters) to their favorite eco-safe, green-based, totally non-carbon footprinting planet of DaDooAlderaan, which the Dumperor and the Dork Lord promptly blew up, just 'cuz they were like, you know, totally bored, and they wanted to see if the what the official GratefulDead Star brochure said was true, that it had the awesome capability of blowing the complete bejeesus out of another harmless and helpless, not to mention round and circular planet like DaDooAlderaan. And HEY! Whaddaya know? That sucka really worked! DaDooAlderaan was completely destroyed into teeny tiny bits, which are still floating around in deep space today, so if you travel there, you MIGHT wanna watch out for that…yeah…'cuz Allstate doesn't protect your vehicle from a collision with chunks of a former planet, no matter WHAT that deep-voiced dude in the commercial tells you. The reaction on the the GratefulDead Star was one of shock and awe, not to mention a little bit of gas, since the Dork Lord had eaten baked beans for lunch. But after high-fiving, back-slapping, and congratulating each other, both evil lords realized they couldn't QUITE hang that "Yippy-Skippy, We Done Won!" banner across the GratefulDead Star just yet. Their enemies, the Mark VII Characters, had escaped being blown up on DaDooAlderaan, by handily running out the back door at the last minute and hopping into their various space-vehicles and blasting off._

_The Mark VII Characters were forced to flee to a remote ice planet called HothHaveNoFury, where they regrouped and holed up in the local Ramada Inn…the really crappy one over by the Toot-Toot Interchange, where all you can hear at night is the Toot-Toot traffic whizzing by at top Toot-Toot trots. Oh yeah, there was a much NICER hotel they coulda gone to, the Hoth Hilton, but OHHH NOOO, their fearless leader, Sergeant Joe Friday, went with the el-cheapo one instead, which totally sucked. There was NO cable, the pool was only lukewarm, the Mai-Tais at the Kon-Tiki bar were icky, and the pervs at the poolside leered lasciviously at not only Dixie McCall and one of the Jean Reeds, but Chet Kelly, Ed Wells, and Officer Bill Gannon, too. Which is actually kind of creepy in a rather unsettling way. And to be honest, there's not really much to do on HothHaveNoFury anyway, since it's basically one gigantic ice cube, so the Mark VII Characters were incredibly bored out of their darling little skulls._

_Then, some exictement happened! Ed Wells told Jim Reed that Pete Malloy had finally consented to letting him drive Adam-12, but it was parked WAAYY outside of the Ramada Inn parking lot, so Jim rented a Toot-Toot and wandered off into one of HothHaveNoFury's blizzards that occur regularly every fifteen minutes, in search of Adam-12. Unfortunately, he and his TootToot were attacked by a hungry ice monster, which kinda looked like Cher, that devoured Reed's TootToot like a frozen tv dinner with mushy peas and carrots, and that really crummy spoonful of fake mashed potatoes. It was saving Reed for dessert, thinking that he might possibly taste somewhat like Chocolate Nutty Fudge ice cream, or maybe some Chunky Monkey. Or perhaps a frozen Snickers bar. Something with nuts in it, in any case. Having realized that Reed was missing, his strikingly bold and dashily handsome partner, Pete Malloy, promptly bitch-slapped Ed Wells up alongside his fat little head, and then rented another Toot-Toot, going off in search of Reed, finding him just as Jim had escaped from the ice monster's lair into the raging blizzard, leaving behind the ice monster, who was suffering from a BAD case of indigestion from inhaling the Toot-Toot too fast. And NO amount of Pepto-Bismol could help THAT creature out, no matter WHAT the goofy commercials say._

_But because night was falling fast on HothHaveNoFury, along with the temperatures, Pete decided not to attempt driving his TootToot back home, since his rental version didn't come equipped with headlights, a GPS system, or a five-disc cd player. So he slayed the rental TootToot, figuring he could claim it accidentally crashed and he HAD to put it out of its misery, just so he wouldn't have to pay a damage fee on the dumb thing. He sliced it and diced it with his handy Rachael Ray cutlery set (only $500 on the internet!) and disemboweled it, stuffing his partner Reed inside of the dead creature in order to save Reed's life, which is SO TOTALLY gross and stinky, since Toot-Toots are not known for their delightful aroma, thus forcing Reed to smell like greasy grimy Toot-Toot guts for weeks afterward. And, as Pete quickly built HIMSELF a much nicer shelter than a dead Toot-Toot, consisting of the camping gear he had purchased at one of HothHaveNoFury's Dork's Sporting Goods store, he was quite thankful that he didn't have to slay his beloved Adam-12 in order to save his partner, 'cuz really, that's a PRETTY hard call to make. I mean, your squad car or your friend? One is nice and friendly, and probably lovely to cuddle with on chilly winter nights, while the other goes really really fast, and can make totally awesome siren sounds. The former would be the car, of course, while Reed would be the latter._

_Anyhoo, word got out that HothHaveNoFury was where the Mark VII Characters were holed up at, so the Evil Dumperor and Snorth Nader hopped into their ginormous SUV, a bright yellow Hummer called an Inferior Star Touch-Feely No It Is Not The Spaceship From The Atari Asteroid Game Even Though It Kinda Looks Like It Mobile, and set course for the planet of HothHaveNoFury, hoping to catch the Mark VII Characters unawares, so they could finally use that big "Yippy-Skippy, We Done Won!" banner for SOMETHING other than a neato slippy-slide. But, the Mark VII Characters got wind of the impending invasion, and pretty much packed up their crap and left, just as Snorth Nader and the Evil Dumperor tossed some really cool all-terrain vehicles called Gnat-Gnats with DormPoopers aboard onto the planet…'cuz hey, fighting wars is for the lower echelon DormPoopers, not the Lord High Mucky-Mucks, and besides, they didn't want to freeze their little tootsies off, since both only packed beach flip-flops for this trip, and absolutely NO cold weather gear at all. After all, it's much easier to defrost a DormPooper than a Dork Lord of the Seethe or an Evil Dumperor._

_In any case, once the DormPoopers broke into the Ramada Inn in search of the Mark VII Characters, they found them all gone, which they then had to report back to the Evil Dumperor, who was not pleased, and had Snorth Nader try to strangle all of them with his use of the Farce, until one of the DormPoopers gasped out that Hey! while the Mark VII Characters were gone, they left behind some of their crap, like a couple of beach towels, a bikini top (but no bottom), a pair of extra-large Speedos, a pair of Ray-Bans, some used tissues, and several tubes of cherry-flavored Chapstick, all of which the Dumperor and the Dark Lord might consider auctioning off on Pee-Bay, for some extra moola in order to trick the Atari-Mobile out in some nice shiny gold rims and neon ground effects. And if there was any extra moola left over, they could get a pair of pink fuzzy dice to hang from the rearview mirror. Oh, and the DormPoopers MIGHT have an idea of where the Mark VII characters were headed next, since one of them drew out a map, marked with a W, and the notation "Look for the buried treasure under the giant W!"_

_And then, it just so happened that Snorth Nader spotted their quarry escaping, and grabbed the Evil Dumperor by his silky, swooshy cape, pointing out the windshield of the Atari-Mobile and shouting, "Thar they go, my Evil ViewMaster! They be gettin' away! Quick! Hoist our leotards and after 'em, mateys!"…which made the Evil Dumperor realize that he needed to force Snorth Nader to cut back on his viewing of the Pirates of the Carribbean trilogy, BIG TIME! So they flipped the Atari-Mobile into a U'ie, and gave chase, which kinda confused them, since they had several quarries to chase. Hmm…which one to choose, which one to choose? Such a difficult decision. They decided that perhaps a nap right then might be best, since sleep is such a refresher for Dork Lords and Evil Dumperors, and they were getting kinda tired anyway, 'cuz they had been busy, what with blowing up helpless eco-friendly planets and playing on the "Yippy-Skippy, We Done Won!" banner slippy-slide. So they retired to their sleeping quarters and each laid down to the soothing sounds of Enya and whales, and ocean waves, and they both pictured themselves in their happy places: the Evil Dumperor imagining himself frisking with Melissa Gilbert as Laura Ingalls Wilder in a wildflower-strewn field, while Snorth Nader imagined himself curling up with "Pride and Prejudice" in front of a fireplace, marvelling at the intricacy of Jane Austen's writing._

_In the meantime, the really, really cool and awesome Alumnimum…almuninum…alnuminum…Aluminum Tufted Titmouse…otherwise known as One-Adam-12, raced through the galaxy, piloted by the strikingly bold and dashily handsome Pete Malloy, and his faithful Snookie co-pilot, Jim Reed, who actually USED to be a LOT hairier than he was now, but unfortunately fell into a vat of Nair on DaDooAlderaan, thus rendering himself completely hair-free from the neck on down. And I mean COMPLETELY, if you…uh…know what I mean. He and Pete were in a hurry to get to the meeting spot, marked in space with a big ol' W, hoping to get to the W before anyone else did, so they could claim the treasure. Naturally they ran code three, with lights and siren going, plus they had their tricked-out stereo system blasting "She'll Be Comin' 'Round The Mountain (When She Comes)," as sung by Mitch Miller and The Gang. And who says folk songs aren't fun?_

_And, not to be outdone by the daring Pete Malloy and his faithful Snookie partner, the strikingly bold and dashily handsome effervescent duo of paramedics John Gage and Roy DeSoto were also piloting their Q-Wing fighter, otherwise known as Squad 51, code three towards the big W in space, in hopes of getting the treasure first, too. However, they hit a bit of a snag mid-flight. They kinda sorta accidentally crash-landed Squad 51 into a swamp on a squooshy, mucky, drippy planet called DingleBall (and NO, that is NOT a term for something sexually naughty, for those of you who so OBVIOUSLY have your minds in the gutter)…mostly because the plucky and intrepid John Gage didn't read the map correctly before they blasted off from HothHaveNoFury. He and Roy soon found that they needed to somehow muster enough of the Farce between the two of them, in order to retrieve their beloved squad from the muckus in which it had not so gracefully landed. They were met by a strange little Muppet-like creature named YokoOHNO!, who wasn't much help to them at all, since her main past-time in life was sitting on a log chewing bark, and she had absolutely NO experience in raising rescue squads from swamp goo. However, she COULD sing "Kiss Kiss Kiss" for their listening pleasure, which both John and Roy politely declined, being rather fond of their eardrums and keeping them intact and unruptured. Since they were unable to free their squad from the goo, they radioed for assistance from their strikingly bold and dashily handsome crewmates from Engine 51, Captain Hank Stanley, Mike Stoker, Chet Kelly, and Marco Lopez. Unfortunately, THEY somehow managed to take a wrong turn at the intersection of Huge Mossy Tree and Drippy Clingy Vine, and also crash-landed in the swamp._

_Now BOTH vehicles were sunk in the disgusting muckus, while YokoOHNO! wandered off in search of some more tasty and highly nutritious bark. After eating it, she returned to give our boys some encouragement, albeit in a high-pitched voice that only dogs and Chet Kelly could hear. Not that it really mattered much anyway, because she talked backwards and in riddles, like a really bad joke book written by wandering toddlers. And they were stuck there, because NONE of them wished to stick even one precious li'l boot-covered tootsie into the swamp muckus in order to retrieve any of their extrication equipment, despite the fact that they were all attired in their full turnout gear for extra protection from swamp urk. But, unfortunately, none of them had any idea how the hell to clean swamp pooty off of turnout gear, and they were pretty sure that swamp pooty wouldn't come out with just a wash in Tide detergent. And, oddly enough, John Gage was wearing NOT his regular fire-department-issued helmet, but a rather cute little hat with two beer cans attached to either sides and a sippy straw dangling down to his mouth…something which MIGHT have actually explained how they came to land on DingleBall in the first freakin' place, since he might have been reading the map while ever-so-slightly intoximacated. And as they were all standing around, discussing how best to get at Squad 51 and Engine 51 without becoming TOO icky with swamp pooty, Chet Kelly cringed, because he swore to God he was hearing the strains of "Dueling Banjos" right about then. But he kept his mouth shut. Because if it was hillbillies and mountain men coming for them, he did NOT wish to end up being the one who "squeeels lahke a peeg." He'd rather that honor go to Gage, whom he feverently hoped that the Deliverance yokels might think had "a purty mouth."_

_In the OTHER meantime, the fearless leader of the Mark VII Characters, the…uh…the…um…boldly monotonic Sergeant Joe Friday and his faithful snoozing sidekick, Officer Bill Gannon, had carefully piloted their unmarked grey Ford sedan towards the big W in space, too, not necessarily because they wanted to get the treasure, per se, but so Joe Friday could deliver a rousing, yet moralistic lecture on how exactly to spend the buried treasure. But, he wanted to obey the space-laws, so he did not run code three, like the others had, because he wanted to show them that haste makes waste, and good things come to those who wait, and patience is a virtue, and yadda yadda yadda. Fact is, Sergeant Friday was just a WEENSY bit afraid that if he put the pedal to the metal, the Ford sedan just MIGHT either A): fall apart mid-flight, B): explode like a Pinto, or C): make the jump into hyperactivespace, which quite frankly, scared Joe, what with all its stars whizzing by so quickly and in such a dizzying blur. The good sergeant wasn't quite used to THAT much excitement at his age anymore. Plus, he figured Bill Gannon would likely sleep through the whole experience anyway, thus making it rather fruitless in the end, since what good is sharing a super hyperactivespace adventure with your friend unless BOTH of you is fully awake to enjoy it? So, the boldly monotonic Sergeant Friday and faithful old Bill Gannon were…_

**AHEM…** "Are you QUITE done yet?" Sergeant Friday asks, rolling his eyes. He is standing at the podium, staring at the ceiling in sheer annoyance.

_Huh? Excuse me?_

"This stupid intro," he says. "The blatant ripoff of 'The Empire Strikes Back'. I know George Lucas, and YOU, Missy, are no George Lucas."

_Um…okay, if you know George Lucas, can you ask him what the hell was up with Jar-Jar Binks? And that awful 'Howard the Duck' movie?_

"Ooh!" says Ed Wells. "Also ask him how I can get my OWN Princess Leia in a skimpy, sexy little maroon bikini with gold bra rims." Ed grins lasciviously. "Grrr-rowr!"

"Ed, you wouldn't know what to do with a Princess Leia in gold bra rims if your life depended on it," Pete Malloy observes.

"Sure I would!" Ed says. "I'd take her out on my sail barge for a little…heh heh…afternoon delight, if you know what I mean." Ed gives Pete a naughty wink.

"Ooh, I LIKE that song!" Jim Reed chimes in. "Pineapples in flight…afternoon delight! Ooh-ooh, afternoon delight!"

"It's  _skyrockets_  in flight, you idiot!" Pete hisses to his partner. "Not pineapples!"

"Hmm," Jim says, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "Yes, that DOES make a bit more sense now, I guess. I mean, unless you were into really kinky sex involving Del Monte products, lobbing pineapples into flight during a romp between the sheets would just be dangerous. Someone is liable to get their eye put out."

"Look, Star Wars is a completely different realm from Mark VII," Friday says, scowling at the ceiling. "In fact, most of us have no clue what Star Wars even is."

"Um…I do," Pete Malloy says, raising his hand.

"Me, too," says Jim Reed sitting next to him.

Friday looks across the room at the audience, most of whom are nodding in agreement. "You mean all of you know what Star Wars is?" he asks, incredulous.

"Yeah, I think most of us get it," says Dr. Brackett. He points to Dr. Early. "I don't know if Joe does, though."

Joe Early scratches his head as he thinks. "Uh…is it anything like 'The Battle Of The Network Stars'?" he asks. "I always root for that Natalie from 'The Facts Of Life'."

"I'm not sure I get it, either. It sounds like a space western to me," says Bill Gannon. "Or possibly some sort of a missle defense system that might have been proposed by President Ronald Reagan."

"Oh, now HE was a great President," Jim Reed says, nodding sagely. "What, with having all those monkeys named Bonzo to put to bed at night, and winning one for the Gipper…all that stuff, you know?"

"Jim, that wasn't a monkey that he put to bed every night," Pete whispers to Reed. "That was his wife, Nancy Reagan."

"Oh," says Jim, frowning. "OH!" he says, as Pete's meaning sinks in. "Ew! I think I woulda taken a line from Nancy herself, and just said no."

_See? Most of them understood the Star Wars references , pally. So what's the big hairy deal?_

"You just can't go inserting one realm into another," Friday says. "It's just not right. It'd be like sticking  _Adam-12_  into the Teletubbies realm. Or  _Dragnet_ into the 'Xena: Warrior Princess' realm. Or  _Emergency!_ into the 'Red Dwarf' realm. They just don't mesh."

_Sure, I can dump those shows into other realms if I want and make them mesh just fine. It's called a cross-over, my friend. It's done all the time. Although crossing you guys into Star Wars is a bit AU, it can still work. And hey, thanks for the ideas on plopping you guys into the realms you suggested. Can't WAIT to see what happens when Pete and Jim arrest Tinky-Winky for picking up pirated radio station signals on its little triangle head-thingy. And I'd LOVE to see how you and Bill Gannon could handle meeting up with Xena, what with her Ai-yi-yi-yi-ing and her leather gladiator skirt. And it would be cool to put the crew of Station 51 aboard Red Dwarf, and see who wins the battle over piloting the ship: Mike Stoker or Dave Lister? And who's the bigger chick magnet: John Gage or Cat?_

"Now wait a minute, what the hell does AU mean? Absolutely unreadable?" Sergeant Friday asks.

_No, it means Alternative Universe, you smeghead. Sheesh, Wikipedia the fanfiction terms, willya?_

"Okay, look, just keep your stupid Star Wars crap outta my Mark VII realm, alright?" Friday asks. "At my age, I find it confusing, not to mention completely silly and utterly ridiculous."

Pete Malloy shrugs. "I dunno, Sergeant. I found it charmingly amusing."

"Yeah, I thought it was amusingly charming," says Ed Wells.

"Not to mention full of plenty of nutrients and lotsa fiber to make you poop," adds Jim Reed with a nod.

"Hey Ed, get your own damned lines," Pete tells him. "Stop hijacking mine."

_Hey Sergeant, I could do some mad-libs if you want._

"What in the hell are those? Are they from that awful 'MAD' magazine?" Friday asks. "With crap like that being published, it's no WONDER this country is going to hell in a handbasket."

_Um…no, madlibs are…oh, hell, just forget it. I don't think you'd understand them, Sergeant, they're probably too over your head. And besides, the fanfiction site wouldn't let me do them anyway._

"So are you done then, with the poking fun and the parody junk? Because this is a very important meeting, and I'll not have you screwing it up with such nonsensical dribble-drabble," Friday says. "It's completely ridiculous."

"Um…the meeting or the parody junk?" Jim Reed asks, slightly confused.

_Okay, fine, go ahead with your stupid ol' meeting, Sergeant. See if I care. And just be glad I didn't Mary Sue myself into this piece too badly. I coulda REALLY made it difficult for you guys._

"I thought your name was Bamboozlepig, not Mary Sue," says Bob Brinkman. "Although, I think Mary Sue is a much nicer name. Bamboozlepig is just…um…"

_**YES? What's WRONG with my nom de plume, Brinkman?** _

Brinkman begins to squirm in his seat, running a finger underneath the collar of his uniform as sweat breaks out on his face. "It's…uh…interesting and fascinating, and I'm sure there's a truly wonderful story as to how you came up with it in the first place!" Brink says nervously. "And I…uh…really like it!"

_Thanks. It's a lot better than my real name, which is actually pretty boring. And there really is a neat story as to how I came by the name Bamboozlepig. You see, a long time ago…_

"Yes, and in a galaxy far, far away," Joe Friday interrupts with obvious impatience as he drums his fingers on the podium. "Look, could you PLEASE stop now? I'd really like to get this second meeting of the Mark VII Characters started, so I can get home in time to watch 'Gilligan's Island'. I'd like to see what wacky antics Gilligan has gotten into THIS week."

Jim Reed leans over to his partner, Pete Malloy. "Pete," he whispers, looking up over his head with wide eyes. "Why is the ceiling talking to us?"

"It's the writer doing a voice-over," Pete informs him.

"Could you please tell it to stop?" Reed whispers again, sounding fearful. "It's really kinda scaring me, Pete."

"Relax, Jim, it's nothing sinister," Pete assures his younger partner. "I promise, nothing's gonna happen to you."

_Heh heh…that's what you HOPE, Malloy._

"Whew," Reed says, breathing an audible sigh of relief, swiping the back of his hand across his forehead. "For a minute there, I was afraid maybe my pants were haunted."

Malloy stares at him. "Your…your…your PANTS were haunted?" he sputters in disbelief.

Reed taps Pete on the forehead with an index finger. "Yes, I said MY PANTS, Pete. I was worried that my pants were haunted." He taps Pete again. "Is there an echo in there or something?" He leans forward, right into Pete's face. "Hell-oooo!" he calls, waving his fingers in front of Pete's nose. "Anybody home?"

"Get out of my face, Reed," Pete snaps, shoving Jim back into his chair. "And what in the HELL have you been eating?" he asks, grimacing and fanning his hand in front of his face. "It smells like…like cat food or something."

"Hey, that's  _exactly_  what I've been eating!" Reed exclaims happily. "Friskies helps keep my coat nice and shiny, and it gives me plenty of energy with its fortified vitamins and minerals that a growing cat needs, plus it cuts down on how many hairballs I hack up."

"Why would your pants be haunted in the first place?" Sergeant MacDonald asks Jim with curiosity.

Jim sighs, shaking his head. "When I took 'em out of the dryer, they were in the process of eating a pair of my socks," he says sadly. "Every time I tried to pull the sock away, the pants sucked 'em back. And then when I put the pants on this afternoon, I suddenly found that everything I touched was giving me a tiny electric shock, which REALLY stings if you're not expecting it. I'm afraid my blue dacrons have started morph into something sinister, like a lime green leisure suit or a pair of Sansabelts. Or worse yet, those hideous shorts that old farts wear with the black socks and sandals." Reed shudders. "Ewww…SO gross!"

Mac stares at Reed for a long moment, digesting what Reed has told him, and studiously ignoring the smirk on Pete's face. "Jim," Mac says slowly, as if speaking to a small child. "That is not your pants morphing into something more sinister. That's a bit of science known as static electricity."

"Are you SURE?" Reed asks Mac hesitantly. "I mean, I don't want my pants suddenly exploding off of me like something out of 'Alien'. That would NOT be pleasant for my goody pouch."

"Or unsuspecting bystanders," Pete adds wryly. "Especially if your pants decided to give chase to people and you had to chase after your pants with your goody pouch flapping in the breeze."

"Oohh," Reed moans, dropping his head into his hands. "I hope you two are right about that static electricty thing and that my pants aren't really haunted. Because if you're not, then my cereal is right, today is gonna be a BAAADDDD day for me."

"Um…" Mac asks, biting the inside of his lip to keep from laughing. "I know I really shouldn't ask this, but why would YOUR cereal tell you that today was going to be a bad day for you?"

Reed sighs dramatically. "I asked it how my day was going to be on a scale of one to ten, with ten being the best, and one being the worst. And you know what? It came up ZEROES on me. Complete zeroes. I think I shoulda stayed home and locked myself in a closet."

"Partner, you ARE a zero," Pete says sarcastically, rolling his eyes at Mac. "I keep telling you, your food is not trying to send you subliminal messages."

"It is, too!" Reed cries. "Just last week, I went to open the tub of butter and it said 'Parkay' to me! And when I made a pan of JiffyPop popcorn the other day, I swear to God, I suddenly had this really strange vision of some idiot creating a jumbo-sized thing of JiffyPop, filling the silver part with helium, and then setting it free to sail over the fields of Colorado like a weird balloon, while alerting the news media and the authorities that his six-year-old son was trapped inside of it, just so he could get on a reality tv show." Jim leans towards Mac conspiratorially. "And THEN, last NIGHT when I had a bit of indigestion from eating one of those magic markers that smell like fruit, I took some Alka-Seltzer to settle my stomach and it didn't say 'plop plop fizz fizz' like it shoulda! Instead, it went 'plop plop FWUMP! Now how strange is THAT?"

"Yeah, a couple of weeks ago, he swore he could hear his pepperonis screaming on his pizza," Pete tells Mac. "He ended up picking them off. Said he couldn't be party to the murder of innocent pepperonis. And he swears that his cans of soft drinks are always saying 'fresh' when he opens them. That is, except when I shake 'em a bit before he gets them," Pete says, grinning devilishly. "Then they go 'FWOOSH'!"

"And then  _I_ end up all sticky," Jim complains. "You know, it's hard to arrest a perp when you've got strawberry soda all over your uniform and badge. Last week a hooker that we arrested wanted to lick me."

"She wanted to do that even without strawberry soda on your uniform," Pete quips.

"I'm just slightly curious," Mac says, his expression thoughtful. "Was this cereal of yours brightly colored hollow loops?"

Jim's eyes widen in amazement. "Yeah, Mac, they WERE!" he gasps.

"And did the box have a colorful bird on the outside of it?" Mac asks.

Jim's eyes get wider and his mouth drops open. "How did you KNOW?" he squeaks in astonishment. "Do you have ESP or something, Mac?"

"No," Mac says, shaking his head. "I have kids. And I can tell you, your cereal wasn't zeroes, Reed. It was Froot-Loops."

"Ooohhhh," Reed says in slow understanding, nodding his head. "Yeah, NOW I understand." He frowns, scratching his head. "But I don't remember…did it have a toy prize inside the box or not?"

"It had a toy whistle inside of it, sweetie," the first series incarnation of Jean Reed tells Jim. "Remember? That's why you wanted me to get the box for you in the first place."

"Uh…then this is not good," Reed mutters in slight distress. "Houston, we have a problem."

"Lemme guess," Pete sighs, rolling his eyes. "You accidentally swallowed the toy prize AGAIN, didn't you, partner?"

"Um…yes," Jim says. "You would be correct."

"Great,  _juuust great_!" Pete groans. "We spent an ENTIRE two-day period a week ago, waiting for that egg of Silly Putty you ate to finally pass through!" He looks at Mac. "And that WAS NOT fun at all, Mac! Believe me!"

"Spare me the details," Mac says, holding up his hand. "I'd kinda like to keep my lunch, if you know what I mean."

"Well, look on the bright side, Pete," Ed Wells offers. "Every time he farts, you'll know where he's at."

"You know, this is as bad as you consulting that Magic 8 ball every time we go on a call," Pete says, looking at his partner with slight distaste. "First it started with horoscopes. Now it's the Magic 8 ball. What's next? A Ouiji board?"

"Oh no," Reed says, emphatically shaking his head. "No Ouiji board. We met the devil once, I don't wanna meet him again." He rubs his chin. "And you know, I think we got gypped anyway in that deal. Wasn't he supposed to give us a fiddle of gold or something after we outwitted him?"

Pete closes his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. "No, Jim," he sighs. "He didn't owe us a fiddle of gold, because we didn't meet him in Georgia while sitting on a log, sawing fiddles of our own. And WE didn't outwit him, you numbskull,  _I_ outwitted him. You were the idiot who offered your soul to him in exchange for a glass of lemonade."

"Oh, yeah," Jim says, nodding his head. "Wonder how Nixon's doing down there in Hell?"

Sergeant Friday clears his throat. "Okay, if the idle chit-chat is done here, let's get this…"

"Hey, Bamboozlepig!" Ed Wells calls, interrupting Sergeant Friday. "You still there?"

_Of course I'm still here. I'm the author, ain't I? I pretty much HAFTA be here, to act as a head nerf-herder over all of you Mark VII Characters, trying to keep you guys out of trouble. And BOY can you folks get into some mighty big trouble._

_"_ I'm just curious, can you do an impression of Snorth Nader…er…Darth Vader?" Ed asks, looking up at the ceiling.

_Um…I can't do the voice, but if you let me have Pete Malloy alone for a few minutes in private, preferably…um…sans clothing, I can definitely guarantee you there'll some heavy breathing going on._

"Yours or Pete's?" Reed asks, also looking up at the ceiling. "'Cuz Pete ain't exactly in the best of shape anymore."

"REED!" Pete snaps, giving Reed a dirty look.

"What, it's true!" Reed exclaims. "Just last week you got winded brushing doughnut sprinkles off of your uniform. And when we chased that robbery suspect onto that golf course, we ended up having to get a golf cart to haul you back to Adam-12 because you were too tired to walk. Plus, I thought  _sure_  you were gonna keel over from a heart attack after you tried to smack the snack machine into giving you an extra can of stew…which, by the way, you DO NOT need."

"Hey, dried toast and figs," Chet Kelly says. "It's the only way to go, Pete, my man. Best diet ever, I tell ya."

"I am NOT FAT!" Pete says sharply.

"Pete," Reed whispers. "Yesterday when you climbed into the driver's side of Adam-12, I had to hang on to the dashboard for dear life, for fear that you'd flip the squad car over onto its side and smoosh me. And let's face it, I'm too cute to be smooshed." He bats his eyes fetchingly, to the delighted squeals of the two Jean Reeds, who simper back at him, giggling and cooing, and waving their fingers.

"Yeah, Pete, the suspension on that car groans every time you get in. And the wheels go slightly flat," Sergeant MacDonald says. "I swear, I saw sparks shooting up from the undercarriage the other day, it was dragging so low to the ground. Let's face it, you've kinda turned Adam-12 into a lowrider, but without the bouncy-bouncy movement."

"Oh, you're one to talk, Yabba the Butt!" Pete snaps, glaring at Mac. "You get any fatter yourself, you'll be forced to turn that station wagon of yours into a sail barge!"

"Ooh, another tasty Star Wars reference!" exclaims Ed Wells with delight. "How many more do you have, Bamboozlepig?"

_Oh, tons! Like how the strikingly bold and dashily handsome, and okay, I'll admit, the ever-so-slightly pudgy Pete Malloy gets encased in a yummy carbonite combination of caramel and chocolate…mmmmm…Pete Malloy, caramel, and chocolate…three of the most delicious words ever!_

"Well that wouldn't work," Reed remarks. "Pete would only eat his way out of something like that." He looks at the ceiling. "And what happens to his faithful Snookie cohort, Jim Reed?" He looks around the room. "You know, speaking of caramel and chocolate, suddenly I'm hungry."

_Reed, you are brought to the mighty Yabba the Butt as a prisoner, caught by a totally fakey fake bounty hunter named Brinko Calimuskiment, who flies a spaceship shaped like a desk stapler or possibly an iron…_

"Yay!" Bob Brinkman yells, clapping his hands with glee. "I made it into the voice-over. Whoo-hoo!"

"What about the REST of us?" Dr. Brackett asks. "Do we make it into the voice-over?"

_Um…well…let's see…how to put this nicely…No, you do not._

"WHAT?" Dr. Morton asks in dismay. "You mean we don't make it into the voice-over at all? Damn! I had a good "whatchoo talkin' 'bout Willis?' impression all lined up!"

_Sorry, Doc. Tell you what. I'll try to work the rest of you in somehow. Would you settle for being a TIE-IN fighter pilot? Or maybe part of the Cantina Band?_

"Hmph, I don't wanna BE in the stupid voice-over now," Dr. Morton pouts. "If I can't be in the main part of it."

_Hey, I ran out of roles for you guys, so sue me. You don't hear Sergeant MacDonald or Ed Wells bitching about not showing up in the voice-over, do you?_

"You know, Bamboozlepig, you kinda have a twisted sense of humor," Mac says.

_Yeah, I try._

"Okay, this is the LAST time I invite you to sit in on our meeting, writer-lady!" Friday says with exasperation. "Especially if you're going to continue with these foolish shenanigans and make a mockery out of our meeting!"

_You CAN'T not invite me, Sergeant. I write the tales that make the whole world laugh…I write the tales that make the whole world cry-yi…"_

"Oh brother, she's channeling Barry Manilow," Ed Wells says with a grimace.

"Hey, can you do 'Copacabana'?" Bob Brinkman asks. "Her name was Lola, she was a showgirl, with yellow feathers in her hair, and a dress cut down to there…"

"Shut up!" Wells hisses. "I HATE Barry Manilow."

"Then why do you have all of his albums, Ed?" Brink asks.

"I swear, writer-lady, one more peep out of you and I'll arrest you for disturbing the peace," Friday warns.

_Yeah, yadda yadda yadda. I wrote you into the story, sucka, I can just as easily take you out, simply with one little press of the delete key on my keyboard. So there. THHPPPPTHPT!_

"Pete, the ceiling just farted at me!" Reed whispers fearfully. "I'm scared! Hold me!" He frantically tries to climb into Pete's lap, his butt tweeting loudly in distress as he farts in sheer fright.

Pete looks at him in horror, quickly shoving him away. "NOT ON YOUR LIFE!" he growls. "Get back into your own chair before I whack you up alongside the head with my nightstick! And quit farting! You sound like you're calling Old Yeller or something." Pete grimaces and tries not to gag.

"Maaac, Pete won't let me sit in his lap," Jim whines petulantly. "And I'm scared!"

"Pete, be nice and at least hold his hand for him," Mac advises. "You're a little bit older than he is, and you're not afraid of things like farting ceilings, so you have to show him how to be brave and strong."

"Oh no," Pete says vehemently. "No freakin' way in HELL I'm holding his hand, Mac! I'm not even sure I wanna sit next to him!"

The first season Jean Reed leans forward and pats Jim on the arm. "There, there, Jim, I'll comfort you!" she coos sweetly. Then she grimaces and settles uncomfortably back into her chair, her left arm in a bandaged and in a sling, her right leg in a cast. She has a bruise on her cheek, and one eye is blackened. "Well, if I  _could_ , sweetie. But I can't right now. Maybe after the cast and the bandages come off, we can play our special little game, just you and I!" She smiles fetchingly at Jim. "Remember it, honey? It's called Hide The Happy Little Pickle."

"Actually," Jim muses thoughtfully. "I think I like playing Hungry Hungry Hippos better."

Sergeant Friday clears his throat. "Okay, now that the writer-lady has shut up, let's get this…"

"Hey, you bitch!" spits the later series incarnation of Jean Reed angrily, ignoring Sergeant Friday and glaring at the early season Jean Reed. "Hands off! He's mine!" She tries to reach out and pat Jim, too, but can't, since she's in a neck brace, a full cast from her right shoulder to her wrist, and has Ace bandages wrapped around both knees. In addition, she is shaved completely and totally bald. Even her eyebrows are gone.

"Ooh, who invited Kojak?" Reed asks, grinning. He winks at her. "Who loves ya, baby? Wanna suck on my lollipop?"

"Oh shut up!" she snaps, trying to smack Reed with her fist. She fails, weighted down by her cast. She topples into the back of Pete's chair instead.

Pete shoves her back into her own chair with a glare. "Get off me, Miss Piggy," he snaps at her.

"You'd be better off settling for Pete, second Jean honey," the first Jean says smugly. "My darling Jim is MUCH skinnier than him. I mean, Pete's so plump, that the last time he came over to our place, we had to make sure he didn't squash little baby Jimmy under his big fat ass when he sat down on our couch."

"I am NOT FAT!" Pete snarls.

"Hey, isn't that kid of yours old enough by now anyway to have enough brains to get out of the way of Pudgy Pete?" asks Brinkman with a frown. "I mean, he was born in the second season of the show, so he's gotta be…" Brink's voice trails off as he counts on his fingers. "Christ, that kid of yours would be forty-one by now!" he says in surprise.

"Nah, he's not that old," early series Jean says, shaking her head. "We had him specially injected with anti-growth hormones, so he'd stay a baby forever, or at least through syndication."

"Mmm…" Officer Bill Gannon murmurs, snoring slightly. "Klinger, you look rather fetching in that dress…" His voice trails off and he smacks his lips, obviously deep in slumber.

"Seriously, Pete," Jim says, patting Pete on the shoulder. "When you chased after that purse-snatching suspect in the episode where you got your new car dented, I don't see how you managed to breathe while running, especially in those tight chocolate pants." Jim stops suddenly and blinks. "Mmm…chocolate pants," he murmurs. "Soooo hungry." He closes his eyes. "I think I could even eat some more Silly Putty right now."

"Oh, go hack up a hairball, Garfield," Pete tells him snidely. "I'll have you know I could breathe just fine while running in those pants."

"Maaac, Pete's being snide to me," Jim whines again. "Make him stop."

"Pete, quit being snide to Jim," Mac tells Pete. "I thought I told you to be NICE to your younger partner."

"Yeah," Jim says, sticking out his tongue. "You hafta be NICE to me, Pete." He blows Pete a raspberry, causing Pete to fix him with a narrow-eyed glare.

"I'm just curious, Pete," Ed asks. "How in the hell did you manage to get your plump little ass cheeks INTO those pants in the FIRST place?"

"Crisco," Pete tells him. "Lots and lots of Crisco. And when that scene was done, I gave the Crisco back to the lunch wranglers."

"Eww," says Brinkman, making a face. "No WONDER my fried chicken platter tasted funny! They were fried in Pete's ass-grease!" He gags violently, causing Mike Stoker, who is sitting in front of him, to shoot him a wary glance.

"Don't puke on me, Greene," he warns.

Brink looks puzzled. "Greene? I'm not Greene, I'm Brinkman."

"Yeah, but you were Officer Greene in a couple of episodes," Stoker says.

"Mike's right," Johnny nods. "You were. Plus you were a paramedic on our show, with a cheesy, porn-star mustache to boot."

"Bow-ca-chica-bow-bow," Chet Kelly sings, imitating porn music. "Tune in to our newest Mark VII porno, 'Brinkman Boffs Boston'!"

Sergeant Friday clears his throat and begins again. "Please, people, let's get this meet…"

"I think you were also called Officer Johnson in a real early episode," Pete says to Brinkman, interrupting Sergeant Friday once more. "The one where the peeping tom scares the gorgeous chick, who kinda hits on me in the end. The chick, I mean, not the peeping tom…although, come to think of it, he was kinda giving me looks like he might've been interested in me, too."

"Ooh, she's the chick who took one of Queenie's pups!" Reed says.

"Yeah, one of Queenie's syndicated pups," Mac says.

"No, they were mongrels, mutts," Reed says, confused. "Just plain old ordinary puppies, not syndicated ones."

"No, I mean they were…" Mac begins, but sees Jim's obvious puzzlement. "Oh, never mind," he sighs.

"I hafta put up with this every day," Pete says, pointing to Jim. "Five times a week at 5pm, for a whole half-hour, and plus on the dvds. I swear to God, Mac, one of these days I'm gonna end up shooting him."

"Or you could just sit on him and smother him with your ginormous ass-cheeks," Ed Wells says.

"Ed, I'm gonna sit on YOU and smother you with my ginormous ass-cheeks, if you don't stop making fun of my weight," Pete warns. "So I gained a few pounds, who cares?"

"You know, I can always tell what season Adam-12 is in," says Dr. Brackett. "Just by the size of Pete's girth. He's pretty skinny from seasons one through four, but then he kinda starts pudging up in season five, and by the final season, he looks like he's REALLY sucking his gut in hard, in order to get through the scenes without popping the buttons off of his uniform. You can tell, because his voice sounds pretty strained when he's speaking, like he's kinda holding his breath."

"Yeah, you know, we hafta watch giving Pete things like a CC unit to wear on his gunbelt," Mac says. "The last time we let him wear one like that, it got sucked into the cavernous folds of his stomach and it hasn't been seen since. Which is a waste of a perfectly good CC unit."

"Hey, so THAT'S why Pete's stomach picks up drive-thru orders at various fast-food restaurants!" Reed exclaims, snapping his fingers. "It's TOTALLY weird that while we're driving along on watch, all of a sudden his stomach will start speaking to him, ordering a Whopper, large onion rings, and a large chocolate shake. Or a Big Mac, large fries, and a large Diet Coke. I thought maybe his stomach had mastered the power of speech and was using it to its advantage, telling Pete what it wanted for our dinner break ahead of time!"

"Yeah?" Pete says angrily, jabbing a finger at Mac. "Well, the last time you and I played a scene together in your office, Mac, when the director yelled 'Cut!', you and I BOTH quit sucking our guts in and exhaled, getting STUCK in your office, because YOU'RE rather husky yourself!"

"Oh yeah, that was freakin' hilarious," Ed Wells says, nodding. "We had to call Station 51 to come pry the two of you out of the Watch Commander's office."

"Yeah, and thanks to you two, our Porta-Power is not so porta-power now," Captain Stanley says. "It's more like Porta-PoopedOut. It makes this funny whine and it won't even lift up the end of the couch in the dayroom anymore."

"Folks, let's stop talking and get this…" Friday vainly begins once more.

"Why do you wanna use the Porta-Power to lift up the couch in the dayroom, anyway?" Pete asks Captain Stanley, interrupting Sergeant Friday again.

Cap shrugs. "What, we get bored, you know. All that downtime, all that fancy equipment, we just HAFTA do something…so we play with it to amuse ourselves. You oughta SEE the fun we have playing with our hoses."

"Um…Cap…I don't think I woulda phrased that sentence QUITE that way, if you know what I mean," Roy DeSoto says, sotto voce.

"Why?" Cap asks, puzzled. "I don't get it. What's wrong with admitting we play with our hoses while on duty at the fire station?"

"Um…Cap…just THINK about it," John Gage says, grinning.

Cap frowns, thinking. Then he turns bright red with embarrassment. "Oh my God, you guys are horrid!" he sputters. "I didn't mean THOSE kinds of hoses, I meant the hoses on the TRUCK!"

"Bow-ca-chica-bow-bow!" Chet sings loudly. "Add another porno to our Mark VII line-up, 'Hank Humps Houston'!"

"Radar," Bill Gannon mutters. "We gotta borrow your rabbit again. Hot-Lips thinks she might be pregnant a second time." Head lolling to the side, he continues to snore. No one bothers to wake him up.

"Yeah, I gotta admit, we get bored on duty, too," Pete says with a shrug. "Jim and I like to take Adam-12 out and go bulls-eye some womp-rats."

"Yeah, I like to take my sail barge out to the desert and feed suspects to the Saarlacc," Mac admits. "Makes for some nice entertainment, plus it cuts down on jail space."

"So THAT'S where that shoplifter we had you transport for us disappeared to," Brinkman says. "I kinda wondered about that."

"Huh, all we do when we're bored at the hospital is blow up the rubber gloves so they look like cow udders," says Dr. Morton.

"Sometimes I like to draw little smiley faces on mine," says Dr. Early.

"Do you MIND?" Sergeant Friday asks, glaring at the ceiling. "What did I warn you about inserting your stupid Star Wars references into this meeting?"

_Sorry, I couldn't resist._

"Pete, the ceiling is talking again…can I shoot at it to shut it up?" Reed asks.

"Not if you ever want to have any more fanfiction stories written about us," Pete says.

"Yeah, speaking of fanfiction," Ed Wells says. "It's nice to see that  _Adam-12_  is finally getting more stories written about it in the fanfic realm. I mean, it's not quite as many as  _Emergency!_  has, but there's now a lot more than there were."

"Any good ones?" Johnny asks. "I mean, we're ALWAYS having really good stories written about us."

Ed shrugs. "Yeah, they're good. Of course there's really only three sites for  _Adam-12_  stories, unless you count the slash site." He catches everyone looking at him with curiosity. "Which I have only been on ONCE," he adds hastily, blushing. He points at Pete. "And YOU my friend, are VERY busy with the ladies on one of the sites," he says. "If you know what I mean." He smirks slightly, waggling his eyebrows.

"Well, I AM a bachelor, Ed, unlike you stodgy old married people," Pete replies. "It's kinda to be expected." He smiles suavely, smoothing his hair down with his hand. "Besides, even pudgy, the women still find me rather attractive."

"Pete!" Judy, his seventh-season love interest, wails. "I thought I was your only love!"

"Oh-ho-ho-ho!" Ed Wells cackles. "Judy, honey, you're chopped liver, compared to some of the chicks Pete's got. In fact, in one storyline, he's married, but NOT to you, toots. Plus he's got a couple of girlfriends on the side, to boot." He winks at Pete. "The authors just have a heyday with your character, Pete."

"Eww," Jim says, wrinkling his nose in disgust. "Chopped liver. Now I'm not so hungry anymore."

"Huh," says Pete musingly. "No WONDER I'm so tired all the time. All those women to date."

"You kinda do more than just DATE them," Ed says archly.

"I was trying to use a more delicate term," Pete says, just as arch.

"Yeah," says Reed. "You're tired, all right, Pete. You told me the other day that your...um...wangdangdoodle was ready to fall off from overuse. You said you thought it needed a vacation." Reed ponders this, tapping his chin with an index finger. "You could always take it to sunny Bermuda," he offers. "Or maybe Disneyland."

"Shut up!" Pete hisses at Reed. "I am NOT taking my wangdangdoodle to Disneyland for a vacation!"

"Why?" Reed asks. "I'm sure it would like the Magic Kingdom. All those fabulous rides to go on, plus there's fireworks every night. And you might get to meet Mickey Mouse!"

"Well, sure, why not?" Pete says sarcastically. "I'm already partnered with Goofy."

Sergeant Friday has finally had enough. "Alright, will everyone just SHUT THE HELL UP?" he yells, pounding his gavel hard against the podium.

The gavel head flies off and smacks Bob Brinkman in the head. "Ow!" he yelps. "Where's the beef?" He rubs his forehead where the gavel struck him.

"YOU!" Friday shouts, pointing at the ceiling. "Writer-lady! Please refrain from any further obvious self-insertion, self-promotion, and self-aggrandizing, before I come up there and arrest you!" Friday then glares at the rest of the Mark VII Characters. "And YOU folks, shut up and LET ME TALK!"

Reed picks up the gavel head and stands up. "Here, Sergeant, catch!" he yells happily, running backwards. He trips over his chair, sending it clattering to the floor, and lands squarely on top of Judy with an audible OOF!

"Well, hel-LO handsome!" Judy coos at Jim with delight, stroking his hair. "C'mere, sweet thang!" She plants a big smooch right on Jim's lips with a wet smacking sound.

"AHHH!" Reed screams in horror, thrashing around and trying to free himself from Judy's grasp. "HELP! A dead Lucille Ball is trying to put the make on me!"

"HA!" Pete shouts jubilantly, pointing at him. "Welcome to MY world, pal! Try putting up with THAT every night! No WONDER I'd rather have the other chicks in the fanfic realm!"

Reed heaves himself to his feet, gagging and spitting dramatically. "AAACK! PAH-TOOIE!" He shudders violently, scrubbing at his tongue with his fingers. "Ugh," he croaks dismally. "She tastes like…like…old upholstery."

"How would you know what old upholstery tastes like?" Pete asks, eyeing Reed warily.

Reed shrugs. "Sometimes I get hungry while we're driving in the squad, so I nosh on the headrests." He sets his overturned chair back into position and sits down in it, giving Judy a dirty look. "Next time, lady, keep your tongue outta my mouth. 'Cuz I, for one, do NOT love Lucy in THAT way!"

"You stuck your TONGUE into MY husband's MOUTH?" the second Jean Reed shrieks. "Judy! You…you…trashy old HO-BAG!"

"Yeah," the first Jean Reed chimes in. "It's bad enough you're dating the Goodyear Blimp!" She jabs a finger at Pete. "Now you want Tapeworm Boy to add to your repetoire? Judy, you AREN'T that attractive!"

"Pete, honey, aren't you the least bit jealous that I kissed another man?" Judy pouts, batting her eyes sexily at Pete.

"Nope, not at all," Pete replies, scowling at her in an effort to discourage her flirtations. "In fact, I thought I sent you back to Mayberry so you could snog with Andy Griffith."

"I returned," Judy sighs. "Because truth be known, Barney Fife isn't the ONLY one with just one bullet in his gun."

"Ooh, sah-nap!" Brinkman says, snapping his fingers. "Dish more, girlfriend!"

"You know, Brink, I think that you took wearing that dress in order to catch that purse snatcher WAAAYYY too seriously," Pete says, looking at Brinkman askance.

"That wasn't me," says Brink. "That was the other Brinkman. And besides, Ed and I weren't the ones who arrested Grandma Walton, pal."

"Hey, the old bag hijacked an ENTIRE LIVING ROOM!" Pete says. "If you can't do the time, don't do the crime!"

"Yeah, but GRANDMA WALTON?" Brink asks. "I mean, c'mon! She's nothing but a sweet little old lady!"

"A little old lady with a taste for larceny," Pete says dryly.

"Which reminds me, the next time you DO arrest Grandma Walton, let us know ahead of time," Mac advises. "The jail would like to put her in a soundproof cell."

"Why, what happened after we booked her in?" Pete asks.

"Oh…she only had to say goodnight to EVERYONE in jail with her," Mac says with amusement. "Goodnight, skanky hooker with STD's in the leopard print skirt and the lacy push-up bra. Goodnight, disease riddled homeless guy picking imaginary bugs off of his skin. Goodnight drunken wino peeing himself in the corner. Goodnight nice jailer man. Goodnight cockroach crawling on the wall. Goodnight six-foot-five tranny dressed as Cher…and it just continued on and on. The jail would like you to just go ahead and release her on her own recognizance next time."

"Pete, what's a tranny?" Jim Reed asks, turning to Pete with avid curiosity. "Does it have something to do with a car?"

"Er…uh…no," Pete stammers. "Not exactly."

"Speaking of cars, do you know what movie I'd REALLY like to see again?" Reed asks. "'Grease.' It was really good." Leaping up, he begins to sing. "I got shoes…they're made of plywood…they're on cruisin' control…"

"SIT DOWN!" Pete hisses. "And it's not 'shoes made of plywood', you idiot, it's 'I got chills, they're multiplyin'!"

"Oh, if you're sick, Pete, you should be at home in bed," Jim tells him sagely, nodding. "Remember the flu bug I passed around a few seasons back? Everyone got sick from it."

"Yeah, and that was because you had to LICK everything you saw," Pete mutters.

Jim ignores him and continues to sing. "Go Greased Lightnin' you're burnin' up a quart of oil…" He begins to do the accompanying motions to the song. "Go Greased Lightnin' you're roastin' through the heat-lamp trial…"

"Will you shut UP?" Pete groans, pulling his nightstick out of the ring on his belt and promptly goosing Jim in the butt with it.

"Hoo-HOO!" Jim says, startled, his eyes going wide as he grabs at his butt with both hands. "Maaac, Pete goosed me!" he complains. "Make him stop!" TWEEEET! goes his butt.

"I'm with Pete on this one, sit down and shut up," Mac replies. "And stop farting, it's kinda gross."

"Wait…" says Dr. Morton, scratching his head, confused. "I'm kinda lost here. You mean to tell me there were actually TWO Brinkmans in  _Adam-12_? What the hell was up with THAT?"

"Yeah, we kinda had a hard time getting the directors to decide on who was gonna play what part, with what name, so it was really screwy for a while," Mac says.

"But how'd you keep them separate?" Dr. Morton asks.

"Oh, easy," Pete tells him. "We pretty much just referred to them as 'Thing One' and 'Thing Two.'"

"Yeah, you gotta remember, these were the writers who saddled us with the three Jerrys," Mac adds.

"It's a good thing  _I_ never had that problem," Ed Wells says smugly. "I was definitely one of a kind," he boasts.

"Yeah, you're right, Ed, you ARE one of a kind," Pete says, grinning. "It's a sure bet that if there was more than one of you, we all DEFINITELY would have run screaming for the hills, with the production crew not far behind."

"Hey, you know, that sounds like a great idea for a scary movie!" Chet Kelly says, snapping his fingers. "The Ed Wells That Attacked Los Angeles!"

"Better yet, call it The Ed Wells That ATE Los Angeles," Pete smirks. "Let's face it, Ed. You got a bit of a spare tire hanging over YOUR gunbelt, too."

"Yeah, well,  _I_ wasn't the one who went to New York in order to be in Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade, and had balloon handlers swarming all over me, looking for the ropes to guide me down the street," Ed tells him heatedly.

"Yeah, that was so cool!" Reed says with delight. "They actually thought Pete was a big ol' balloon that had broken loose, so they tried to recapture him before he could do any damage along the parade route. And they knocked him over by accident, and all these screaming female fans descended upon him…mmph mmph…" He jerks Pete's hand away from his mouth. "Maaac, Pete's trying to shut me up," he whines. "Make him stop!"

"Pete, knock it off, I wanna hear what Jim is gonna say," Mac says, as he and the rest of the Mark VII characters lean forward with interest.

"Oh, this is soooo embarrassing," Pete groans, dropping his head into his hands. "Calgon, take me away! Far, far, far, FAR away! Like into another fanfiction realm, PLEASE! I'll even take 'The Cosby Show'!"

"So what happened to Pete after the screaming female fans descended upon him?" Johnny asks, brimming with curiosity.

"They kept looking for the air-stem so they could blow him back up," Reed laughs. He nudges Pete. "Tell 'em what you kept saying, Pete."

"Ladies, that is not an air-stem," Pete mutters in a very low voice, keeping his head down.

"What, we couldn't hear you," Mac says. "Speak up, Malloy."

"Ladies, that is not an air-stem," he mumbles once more, head still down.

"We STILL can't hear you, Pete," Dr. Brackett says. "Talk louder."

Pete jerks his head up, glowering. "I kept telling them 'Ladies, that is NOT an air-stem!', but none of them really listened to me," he snaps. "They all kept trying to blow air into me, and NOT always by my mouth, either!" He sits there grimly, stone-faced, arms folded across his chest, as the rest of the room explodes into complete hilarity. "And it's NOT funny, either!" he pouts.

"Honest to God, is that TRUE?" Captain Stanley asks, snorting with laughter.

"Sure is," Reed tells him gleefully. "In fact, if you watch a tape of the parade we were supposed to be driving Adam-12 in, you can see it happening off to the side."

"You know, I'm gonna remember this, Reed, for when the next time you wanna drive Adam-12!" Pete growls at him, eyes narrowed.

"Ooh, add yet another porno to the Mark VII line-up, 'Pete Pokes Punxsutawney!" Chet Kelly says with delight.

"The town or the groundhog?" Mike Stoker asks, giggling.

Chet ponders it for a second. "Well, the town, but if you wanna get REALLY kinky, we could throw in the groundhog, too."

"Okay, but wouldn't the poor groundhog get kinda confused?" John Gage asks. "I mean, it'll see Pete's big ol' ass hanging over its burrow and then it won't see its shadow, thus possibly predicting an early spring in error."

Pete suddenly stands up and stomps over to Chet Kelly, smacking him in the back of his head with his hand. "You!" he snarls at Chet, shaking his finger in Chet's face. "Have porn on the brain, my friend!" He stomps back to his seat, where he smacks Jim Reed in the head with his hand, also. "And YOU!" he growls at Jim. "Have big freakin' mouth! I told you to keep the Macy's incident quiet, you idiot!"

Jim stares at Pete in shock, his lower lip trembling. "Aaaaahhh," he begins to cry, his voice rapidly rising. "AhhhWAAAHHH!" he bellows, tears spilling from his eyes as he continues to stare at Pete. "Maaac, Pete hit me! Make him STAWWWPPP!" he weeps loudly.

"Pete, we've gone over this before," Mac sighs. "You CANNOT smack your junior partner around, no matter how much he may need it. Now apologize to Jim."

"I  _will not_ ," Pete sniffs indignantly. "He deserved it."

"I HATE you," Reed snuffles, wiping his nose on his uniform sleeve and glaring at Pete. "You're a big meanie!" He turns in his chair so that he's facing away from Pete, sticking his nose up in the air. His sobs subside into noisy gasping hiccups. "I huh-HATE you, Pe-HEE-et. You're a smeh-HEY-ghead."

"Of COURSE I have porn on the brain," Chet says in consternation. "Why wouldn't I? I finally figured out how to get the Playboy Channel unscrambled. Now I can sit back with a beer and pizza, and watch hours of a guy painting a bunch of happy little trees, some really funny guys stuck on a spaceship called 'Red Dwarf', a little red Muppet named Elmo talking to his furniture, a boring guy named Lehrer giving a news report, and these four little brightly colored waddley things with weird dealies on their heads, named Po-Po, Laa-Laa, Dipsy-Doodle, and…" Chet stops, scratching his head. "Um…I think the fourth one is called Farfegnugen or something."

Everyone stares at him in silence. "Chet, that's not the Playboy Channel you're watching, that's Public Television," Captain Stanley says slowly.

Chet stares at him in astonishment. "What?" he cries in dismay. "You're kidding me! I thought it was the Playboy Channel!" He closes his eyes, shaking his head. "Man, am I ever stupid!"

"Hey, you said it, Chet, not us!" Johnny crows.

"It's nice for you to finally be able to admit that you're stupid, Chet," Cap says, patting Chet on the shoulder. "Although we've pretty much figured that one out on our own, and a LOOONGGG time ago."

"No, it's not that!" Chet groans, dropping his head into his hands. "Last week I invited this really hot chick up to my place to watch that channel with me. I couldn't understand why she slapped me when I asked her if she found happy little trees and Elmo sexy. And then she kicked me when I called her my sweet little smeghead. And then she walked out when I asked her if she would drop her Dow Jones for me."

"Chet, you have a bit of a problem," says Roy DeSoto. "If you find happy little trees and Elmo to be sexy, and you think a girl is going to be turned on by you calling her a smeghead and asking if she'd drop her Dow Jones for you."

"Well, that stupid Elmo is always begging me to tickle him, so what am I SUPPOSED to think?" Chet cries defensively. "Can I help it if I find happy little trees and Elmo to be just a little bit hot?"

"Chet, not only are you stupid, you're also kind of a perv," Johnny says. "No one ELSE finds that stuff to be hot or sexy."

"Oh, great!" Chet snaps. "And this is coming from someone who thinks Englebert Humperdinck is da bomb and that windowpane pants turn chicks on!"

"Sorry, Hawkeye, but you can't stuff Frank Burns into a crate and mail him off to Alaska," Bill Gannon mumbles, still asleep. "Sarah Palin would not be very amused to open a crate and find a naked Frank Burns. Now if you left him clothed…" Gannon's voice trails off once more as he shifts around in his chair. Still, no one bothers to wake him and he continues snoozing peacefully.

"PEOPLE!" Sergeant Friday yells again, the only one unamused by everyone's antics. "Let's stop with the idle chit-chat and get down to brass tacks here!" He pounds the podium sharply with the gavel. "Before…" he starts to say, but the head of the gavel flies off once more, this time hitting Mike Stoker in the head.

"OW!" Mike yells, rubbing his forehead. "You sank my battleship!"

"Did someone say B-4?" Dr. Early asks. "If they did, then BINGO! I've got Bingo!"

"Ooh, Bingo!" Jim Reed exclaims happily, clapping his hands. "There was a farmer who had a dog, and Bingo was his name-o, B-I-N-G-O, B-I-N-G-O, B-I-N-OW! Pete, don't pinch me!" he yelps, rubbing his arm where Pete has pinched him at. "Maaac, Pete pinched me!" he snivels pathetically. "Make him stop!"

"Then STOP SINGING!" Pete yells.

"Pete, don't pinch Jim," Mac says, turning around in his seat to look at the two squabbling partners. He jabs his index finger at the two of them. "I swear to God, if I hafta come back there, SOMEBODY is getting desk duty for a month! At LAX!"

Friday has retrieved the gavel head and has stuck it back onto the handle. He clears his throat authoritatively, bringing everyone's attention back to him. "Alright, I understand that we have a lot to discuss in this second meeting of the Mark VII Characters, so let's get it started." He frowns. "By the way, did anyone bother to take notes from the first meeting?" he asks, looking around the room.

"Uh…no, I don't think so," Mac tells him. "I don't think we figured there was going to BE a second meeting."

"Yes, well as long as the writer can keep coming up with funny crap like this, we can expect more meetings," Friday says. "At least that's what the memo from her said." He looks down at his notes. "Now then, when I call your show, tell me who all is here.  _Emergency!_  who did you bring with you tonight?"

Captain Hank Stanley raises his hand. "From Station 51, there's me, plus Roy DeSoto, Marco Lopez, and Mike Stoker. Along with the two twits du jour, Chet Kelly and John Gage."

"You left the dogs at the station this time, I hope?" Friday asks. "I happened to step in one of Boot's little presents he'd left behind the last time they were here, which I did NOT find very amusing. The inside of our unmarked grey Ford sedan smelled like dog poop for a good week."

"Yeah, Henry's there at the station, anyway," Cap says. "Boot ran off on one of the Coast Guard rescue choppers."

Friday stares at him. "Why?" he asks. "Why would Boot run off on a Coast Guard Chopper?"

Cap shrugs. "I think he might have thought life at sea was more exciting or something. After all, his favorite song was 'In The Navy' by the Village People, and he LOVED the movies 'Mr. Roberts' and 'Operation Petticoat'."

"Hey, weren't you in that movie?" Mac asks Pete.

"What movie?" Pete asks back.

"'Mr. Roberts'. You played an MP with a truly awful Southern accent," Mac says. "You sounded like a stoned Beverly Hillbilly."

"Yeah, I also saw you in another tv series too, Pete, besides  _Adam-12_ ," Dr. Brackett says. "You and some other guy were driving this really cool Corvette all over the United States, in search of adventure and whatever life had to offer. The only thing was, you weren't in color like you are now. You were in black and white. And while the show was called 'Route 66', a lot of the episodes weren't filmed on the highway itself. "

"Um…yeah, filming on the highway itself was actually rather difficult to do," Pete tells Dr. Brackett. "We'd get all the equipment set up on the roadway in order to shoot a scene, and whaddaya know, about THAT time, someone would come along who wanted to drive through there. Plus, every time a big rig would go by, it would completely blow George Maharis off the road. And then the directors would hafta spend the next hour or so, trying to find out where he'd landed at. I'm pretty sure that's why he ended up leaving the show."

"How come big rigs didn't blow YOU off the road, Pete?" John Gage asks.

"Are you KIDDING?" Reed exclaims. "Look at him, Johnny! Do you think an 18-wheeler could blow HIM off of the road easily?" He pokes Pete in the stomach. "Besides, you know what they say, Weebles wobble but they won't fall down."

"I am NOT a Weeble!" Pete snaps. "And poke me again, so help me God, I'll rip that damned finger of yours off and stuff it up your ass!"

"Maaac, Pete's threatening me," Jim petulates. "Make him stop!"

"I swear to GOD, the two of you are acting like three-year olds!" Mac snaps. "Knock it the hell off before I come back there and open a can on your asses!"

"You know, I could never figure out what was up with 'Route 66' anyway," Dr. Morton says. "Why did Tod and Buz have only one consonant on ends of their first names?"

Pete shrugs. "I dunno. I guess maybe the producers didn't want to spring for an extra 'D' and an extra 'Z' on the ends," he says.

"Hey, I also saw you in 'Pete Kelly's Blues'," Chet Kelly says. "You get nanny-goated to death after the first fifteen minutes or so."

"I wasn't nanny-goated to death," Pete says, frowning. "I was machine-gunned."

Chet shrugs. "Sounded like a nanny goat killed you to me. But hey, I liked your version of 'Bye Bye Blackbird' in that movie."

"You know, I really like the Village People," Reed says thoughtfully. He suddenly jumps up. "It's fun to stay at the YMCA!" he sings, forming the letters with his arms. "It's fun to stay at the Y…MC…" and on the "C" formation, he promptly smacks Pete in the head with his hand.

Pete leaps up, grabbing Reed's arms and stopping his letter formation in mid-form. "Will you SIT DOWN?" he snarls. "You hit me in the head, you jerk!" He lets go of Reed's arms and sits back down with a huff.

Reed stares at him for a moment. He turns back to Sergeant Friday and forms the final letter with his arms. "A!" he sings, then he sits down, too. "Maaac…" he begins.

Mac cuts him off with a wave of his hand. "Reed, shut up. I don't want to hear anymore from EITHER of you. Got it?" He rubs his forehead. "Christ, you two are giving me a migraine."

"Instead of the Village People, Reed, you are the Village Idiot," Pete says, rolling his eyes, smirking.

Reed brightens. "Thanks, Pete!" he says.

"That  _wasn't_  a compliment," Pete tells him.

"Are we quite done here with the entertainment?" Sergeant Friday asks as he pounds the podium with the gavel once more, the head flying off and landing in Dixie's bosom.

"Oh MY!" Dixie says, looking at her bosom with dismay. "Sergeant Friday, please, show some restraint! Keep your gavel on your OWN podium, not mine!"

"Here, I'll get that for you," Dr. Brackett offers gallantly. He begins to fish around in Dixie's bosom for the gavel-head, while she giggles and blushes.

"Hey, hands off, Brackett!" Joe Early tells him. "I'm think I might be married to her."

"When you find out, let me know," Brackett says, dislodging the gavel-head and tossing it to Sergeant Friday. "In the meantime…" He waggles his eyebrows lasciviously as Dixie giggles with delight. "There's more where THAT came from, honey."

"Oh, Kel," Dixie simpers with delight. "You NAUGHTY boy!"

"Who is here from Rampart Hospital?" Friday asks, catching the gavel head that Dr. Brackett tosses to him and sticking it back on the handle once more.

Dr. Kelly Brackett holds up his hand. "Sergeant, once more, I've brought myself, Dr. Morton, Dr. Early, and the tantalizingly delicious Head Nurse Dixie McCall," he says, his voice heavy with drama.

"Oh, Kel, you shouldn't say that about me," Dixie giggles, blushing again.

Dr. Brackett gives her a wink and a lascivious leer. "Rrrowr," he tiger-growls at her.

"Oh brother, are they STILL at it?" Dr. Morton asks, rolling his eyes and jerking a thumb at Dr. Brackett and nurse Dixie.

Dr. Early nods. "'Fraid so, Mike. This time  _I_ was the one who found them snogging like little bunnies."

"Lemme guess, in the linen closet again?" Morton asks.

Dr. Early shakes his head. "No, in the ladies' restroom."

"We were NOT snogging like little bunnies, Joe," Kel denies. "I was just checking Dixie for heart palpitations."

"Yeah, you can tell yourself that, Kel, but that certainly wasn't a stethoscope you were using," Dr. Early replies.

Dr. Morton frowns, looking at Dr. Early. "Um…what exactly were you doing in the ladies' restroom, Joe?"

Dr. Early shrugs. "At my age, sometimes I get confused as to which bathroom is which."

"Hmm, no WONDER your last four surgery patients died on the operating table," Kel says, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

"Surgery patients?" Early asks in obvious shock. "You mean I had  _surgery patients_? WHEN? I don't remember that! Why didn't someone TELL me?"

"Wait a sec, Dixie!" John Gage says with obvious dismay. "You and Dr. Brackett are back together? What about the two of US? I thought WE had something going!"

"Oh, Johnny, I'm so sorry!" Dixie wails. "I didn't mean to hurt you! But it was just a fling that you and I had! I got tired of playing with Kel's monkey so I decided to play with yours for awhile!"

"So you mean I went and got 'Dixie' tattooed on my left nostril for NOTHING?" Gage asks in dismay.

"Is THAT what that is?" Roy asks him, squinting at the tiny tattoo on Johnny's left nostril. "I thought it was a gigantic booger stuck there."

"Hey, what was wrong with MY monkey in the first place, Dix?" Dr. Brackett asks angrily. "I thought you had grown rather fond of it!"

"Yes, well, uh, it didn't…it didn't…" Dixie stutters and tears spring to her eyes. "It didn't always stand up and salute!" she cries, dropping her head into her hands. "It sometimes flew at half-mast only! It was limper than a Chinese noodle! It lacked starch! It was wee willie, but not the winkie! It…"

"Okay, we get the picture!" Kel says, turning a VERY bright red. "Say no more!"

Reed looks at Pete. "Pete, can I get a…"

"NO!" Pete snaps. "You cannot get a monkey, Reed!"

"Maaac, Pete won't let me get a monkey!" Reed whimpers. "Make him buy me a monkey!"

"Pete, buy Jim a monkey," Mac sighs wearily. "Hell, buy him a thousand-pound gorilla, for all I care."

"Ooh, I want Grape Ape!" Reed exclaims. Then he frowns. "No, wait. I think I want Mr. Teeny instead. He's trained to do tricks, plus he smokes that cute little cigar."

"Tell you what, Jim," Pete says, leaning towards Reed conspiratorially. "I'll get you a monkey if you'll let me shave you bald and paint you purple, and then parade you around on a little chain, okay?"

"Sounds like fun!" Reed says happily. "When can we start, Pete?"

"Why, right when we leave this meeting!" Pete tells him grandly, grinning devilishly.

"Pete Malloy, you are NOT shaving my husband bald and painting him purple!" the first Jean Reed snaps at Pete. "Let alone parading him around on a chain!"

"Hey, he's MY husband!" the second Jean snarls at the first Jean.

"Oh," Judy sighs mournfully. "I wish Pete would shave ME bald and paint me purple."

"You know, it could be, Kel, that you're using too much Grecian formula," Mike Morton tells Dr. Brackett. "That may be causing your…um…limp noodle problems."

"Doc, you need to prescribe yourself some Viagra," Ed Wells says. "I got some of it and let me tell you, my wife and I are REALLY enjoying a new lease on our sex life. She's the happiest she's been in years." He gives Dr. Brackett a wink and a leer.

"Um…Ed, I wouldn't exactly say your wife is the happiest she's been in years," Pete says with amusement. "In fact, when I saw her the other day, she was haggard-looking, walking bowlegged, and was cross-eyed to boot!"

"Ooh-hoo!" Chet crows with glee. "Yet another porno! 'Wells Wackas Wife'!"

"Hey Chet, I've got a porno for you," Captain Stanley tells him. "It's called 'Chet Gets Choked To Death By Everyone Else'."

"That's not even a GOOD porn title," Chet says, frowning.

"No, but I can guarantee you, it's the future…the NEAR future, if ya know what I mean!" Cap warns.

"Okay, ENOUGH!" Sergeant Friday shouts. "This meeting is going absolutely nowhere!" He looks down at his notes. "Now then,  _Adam-12,_  who have you brought along with you tonight?"

Sergeant MacDonald raises his hand. "There's me, along with Officers Jim Reed and Pete Malloy. The two different versions of Jean Reed are here, too, along with Judy, Pete's love interest in the final season. Officers Ed Wells and Bob Brinkman are also here."

"What about the squad car? What's representing it?" Friday asks.

Mac holds up the hotsheet desk. "I brought the hotsheet desk."

"You brought our HOTSHEET desk in?" Pete asks with dismay. "What the hell are we supposed to write on?"

"Don't worry, Pete, I brought this!" Reed says, holding up an Etch-A-Sketch. He twiddles with the knobs, biting his lip. "Only thing is, the letters come out looking really freaky, and every time we hit a bump, it erases everything." He holds it up for everyone to see. "Hey, look!" he crows. "I drew a SQUARE!"

Pete grabs the Etch-A-Sketch from Reed, shaking it vigorously. He hands it back with an evil grin. "There ya go, partner. I drew you a blank slate."

Reed takes it, staring at it with shock. "You…you…you ERASED it!" he cries. "You erased my perfect square, Pete! That was SO not nice!" He looks at Mac, his lips trembling once more. "Maaac…" he begins.

"Can it!" Mac snaps, turning around to glare at Jim. "I don't wanna hear anymore!" Mac turns to Pete. "I brought the hotsheet desk in because the LAST time, when I brought the steering wheel in, you complained that I didn't get the little bumpy grooves back in the right spots after I put it back on," he informs him haughtily.

"You didn't!" Pete says. "They were completely out of whack! My ten-and-two position was more like eleven and four!"

"Why are the two Jean Reeds here again?" Friday asks. "Wasn't one sufficient enough?"

Mac shakes his head. "They got into an argument over who was going to be here, so they both ended up coming again." He gestures at them. "And you can see the results of their catfight yourself, Sergeant. They both got banged up pretty good, they're both on crutches, and the second Jean is totally bald right now."

John Gage turns around and spies the bald-as-a-cue-ball, second version Jean. "Cool! It's Yul Brynner!" he exclaims in awe.

Dr. Brackett shakes his head. "No, that's not Yul Brynner. I've worked with Yul Brynner and trust me, that's not him."

"When did you work with Yul Brynner?" asks Captain Stanley.

"When I did a sequel to 'The Magnificent Seven', called 'The Return Of The Seven'," Dr. Brackett replies.

"Uh…pardon me, Doc, but wasn't most of the ORIGINAL Magnificent Seven wiped out in the first movie?" Roy DeSoto asks.

"Yes, but the studio couldn't get Brynner to give up his black cowboy outfit he wore in the first movie, so they had to shoot a sequel," Dr. Brackett says.

"Why didn't they just get some big guys to hold him down and strip him?" asks Chet Kelly.

"Are you KIDDING me?" Dr. Brackett asks. "Have you ever SEEN how that guy can stare at you so piercingly? I swear, he's like an ostrich with an overactive thyroid condition."

"You know, I kinda liked him in 'The King And I'," says Jim Reed. "Anna's dresses were soooo  _dreamy_!" He closes his eyes in ecstasy. "Getting to know you…getting to know all about you…" he croons.

Pete reaches out to pinch Reed once more, but catches Mac's glare and thinks better of it. "Hey, anyone wanna trade seats with me?" Pete asks instead. "Someone ELSE can sit next to the Village Idiot instead of me for awhile."

"Hey, I'll trade with ya, Pete," Ed Wells says, holding his nose, fixing Brink with a dirty look. "Brinkman's burrito is NOT sitting well with him right now." He rolls his eyes. "Lord have MERCY!" he says in disgust. "Brink, can't you control yourself?"

"You were the one who wanted to eat Mexican food for our seven, Ed," Brinkman says defensively. "You know damned well what it does to me!"

Ed looks at him askance again. "Yes, well, you certainly are living up to your nickname…Boom-Boom." He leans forward and nudges Roy DeSoto. "Hey, I don't suppose I could borrow one of your air masks, could I?"

Roy shakes his head. "Sorry, we used 'em last night after Marco made his mother's five-bean chili recipe. It was good going down, but NOT coming out."

Captain Stanley grimaces. "Yes, and let me remind you guys that as alleged adults, we are supposed to be PAST the juvenile humor phase. We are fire _fighters,_  not fire _farters,_  gentlemen."

"Heh heh," Chet Kelly cackles, pointing at Captain Stanley. "Cap said fart."

"Yeah, well, you ain't the one with singed ass-hairs, Chet," Gage snaps. He jabs Dr. Brackett in the shoulder. "Hey Doc, can I have some of that burn cream you guys gave me in 'Propiniquity'? I could definitely use some right now."

"Sure," Dr. Brackett says. "I'll give it to you after the meeting."

"And before you even ask, NO, I am NOT helping you put it on," Roy says with a frown. "That is MOST definitely a do-it-yourself job."

"I oughta make Chet do it," Johnny says, glaring at Chet. "He's the one who got the lighter too close in the first place."

"Only because your ass is so skinny I had a hard time finding it in the dark," Kelly replies.

Captain Stanley turns to Mac. "Wanna trade crews, Mac?" he asks wearily. "I'll swap ya, even-steven. Station 51 for Adam-12. I'll even throw in the two twits for free."

"Hey, Cap, what's wrong with us?" asks Mike Stoker in a slightly wounded tone. "We're not as bad as Kelly and Gage are, not by a long shot."

"No, but you never talk much, Mike, and Marco…well…he's just more of an extra character," Stanley says. "Since the station had to have six guys on duty to make the show realistic."

"I am not just an extra character!" Marco says defensively. "I had a few lines when we won that trophy for best comedy act at the firemen's picnic!"

"Yeah, by the way, that wasn't an official trophy from the picnic, pal." Cap says. "It was a bowling trophy that was picked out of the trash."

"Chi-Chi Rodriguez!" Marco says, slapping his forehead. "No WONDER the little figure on the top is bent over and holding a ball! I told Mama it was proof that we made them laugh so hard at the picnic that they lost their kidneys and they were picking them up off the ground!"

"Uh…Marco, kidneys aren't round," Roy points out.

Marco nods his head, snapping his fingers. "And see? That's why you TWO are the paramedics," Marco says. "Give me the firefighting stuff any day."

Sergeant Friday looks around. "No one else came from  _Adam-12_?" he asks.

Mac shakes his head. "Nope. That's it."

Sergeant Friday sighs, rubbing his forehead. " _Dragnet_? Is there anyone else here from  _Dragnet_  besides me?"

"What's that Hot-Lips?" Bill Gannon murmurs, smacking his lips. "You want me to give you a shot with my big needle WHERE? Oh my, I don't think Mildred would approve…"

Sergeant Friday pokes at him with the gavel. "Bill, wake up," he hisses. "You're thinking of the wrong show. You're on  _Dragnet,_  not  _M.A.S.H."_  He jabs at Gannon once more. "Wake UP, damn it!"

"What?" Bill Gannon asks, awakening with a snort and a start. "What's going on?" He looks around in consternation.

"Bill, we're at a Mark VII meeting," Sergeant Friday tells him. "You need to try and stay awake."

"Damn, and I was having SUCH a wonderful dream," Gannon sighs regretfully.

"Ooh, was it a naughty nursie dream?" Dr. Brackett asks. "I've had lots of those. Mostly about Dixie, but some about Hot-Lips Houlihan. And oddly enough, one about that old bat that was mean to Johnny when he was hospitalized after getting hit by the car."

"Kel!" Dixie exclaims. "See if I wanna play with  _your_  monkey anymore!"

"Pete, can I…" Reed begins.

"For christ's sake, NO!" Pete snarls.

"I wasn't going to ask for a monkey this time," Reed informs him haughtily. "I want a naughty nursie instead."

The second Jean Reed smacks him with her crutch. "Jim! We're married!" she snaps.

"Since when did I marry Sinead O'Connor?" Reed asks, looking puzzled.

"Nothing compares…no-THING compares…to yewwww," sings Chet Kelly.

"Is there anyone I've missed?" asks Sergeant Friday.

"Ineeedy I do believe you have, my fine and distunguished friend," says a short little fellow with gray hair and glasses who has been sitting in the far corner of the room, watching the meeting with avid, if somewhat glazed, interest.

Friday squints at him. "Who in the world are YOU?" he asks.

The little man stands up, swaying slightly. "Might I have the pleashure of introdushing myshelf to all you fine and merry folksh," he says, gesturing grandly at himself and nearly toppling over. "I am Mishter J… _hic_ …J… _hic…_ J. Shimmonsh, and I am an alka…an alkymo…an indeshcriminate conneshuer of alcomalholic beveragesh. HIC!" He waves gaily to everyone. "I'm sho pleashed to shee all you fine upshtanding peoplesh tonight. I'm berry glad to make your… _hic_ …your… _hic_ …I'm berry glad to make your acquaintenancesh. I'm sho happy to be in shuch truly and udderly delimeful company, your meeting is sho fashinating and hilarioush. Now, I wash infirmed that there would be cookiesh and doughnutsh, along with cuffee. If shomeone would ash sho kind ash to point me in the proper directshun, I shall partake of whatever coolinary offeringsh you might… _hic_ …offer."

"Oh, brother, J. Simmons," Pete groans, slapping his forehead. "Our naked drunk driver."

"Offisher Reed!" exclaims J. Simmons happily to Pete. "We meet again! And might I remand you that you have yet to… _hic_ …yet to… _hic_ …yet to find my pantsh with the Pishmo Beach clamshellsh in the right front pocket? I thought poliesh offishers were shupposhed to help reunite ownersh with their misshing itemsh! HIC!"

"Mr. Simmons, I'm Officer Malloy," Pete tells him with exasperation. "And that episode was clear back in season three. Your pants are probably long gone by now. Washed out to sea."

"Why how dare the shea take my shea shells!" J. Simmons exclaims. "I wash shertain it wash that little girl shelling shea shells by the sheashore who shtole my shea shells! And now you tell me it'sh the shea? My word! What ish thish world coming to, if you can't leave your shea shells by the shea shore?"

"You know, I wonder if he could say that five times fast," Reed whispers, nudging Pete.

"Indeeeedy, I could, Offisher Malloy," J. Simmons proudly informs Reed, patting himself on the chest. "Only I don't feel like shaying it right now. My tonguey ish ever-sho-shlightly dizshy, mostly becaush I am ever-sho-shilightly intox… _hic_ …intox… _hic…_ intoximacated. HIC!" He looks around him. "Now if shomeone would kindly aim me in the directshun of the cuffee and doughnutsh, I shall gambol over there and have a shnack."

"Mr. Simmons, this isn't an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting," Pete tells him. "It's a meeting of the Mark VII characters."

J. Simmons frowns. "What?" he asks, looking puzzled. "Whatever do you… _hic_ … mean, my fine and fabuloush Offisher Reed?"

"It's not an A.A. meeting. I think you're in the wrong room," Pete explains.

"Why that Dirty Ernie!" says J. Simmons indignantly. "He promished me THISH wash an A.A. meeting! You jush wait until I get my handsh on that Dirty Ernie. He'll regret fooling Mishter J. Shimmonsh, that'sh for shure!" He sits down in his chair with a heavy thud. "That Dirty Ernie shall RUE the day that he messhed with J… _hic_ …J… _hic_ …J. Shimmonsh." He shakes his fist. "Rue THE DAY!" he exclaims, then he drops his head to his chest and promptly begins snoring.

"Is there anyone else I've missed?" asks Sergeant Friday, looking around the room a final time. "Didn't Virginia Gregg come?" he asks. "She played in quite of few of our episodes."

"Quite a few is right," Bill Gannon snorts. "Hell, every time we turned around, she was in an episode. First she got her jade stolen. Then she worked in a candy store that got robbed. Then she was a newspaper reporter."

"She was also a nagging wife who wanted her husband arrested for abuse on our show," says Pete.

"Did you send her an email with the time and date of the meeting, Sergeant?" asks Ed Wells.

"Emails?" Sergeant Friday asks, frowning. "What the hell are those things?"

"You get them on your computer," Ed says. "They're sent over the internet."

"Computers?" Friday asks, scratching his head with confusion. "Internet? What's that crap?"

"You know, that funny-looking equipment on your desk?" says Ed Wells. "The white box with the button on it that turns it on, the little thing that looks like a flat-screen tv set, the flat little typewriter keyboard, and the little mouse attached to the whole works by a wire? THAT'S your computer, Sergeant."

"You know, I always say, if life hands you a lemon mouse, you need to build a better lemon mousetrap to make mouse lemonade," Reed says thoughtfully.

"Jim, did you eat the brownies at the back of the refrigerator again?" Pete asks. "I keep telling you, that's EVIDENCE, not EDIBLES!"

"Sergeant, hasn't anyone showed you how to use your computer yet?" asks Ed.

"No," Friday admits. "But when I DID push the button, the little box started humming, then a cup holder popped out. So I put my coffee cup on it, thinking maybe it was going to brew me some coffee. And the lousy thing didn't, either. What a gyp! You'd think if it was going to come with a cup holder, the least it could do is make me some coffee." He leans on the podium, squinting as he thinks. "And you know, come to think of it, that strange little tv screen kept flashing a code of some type at me."

"What did it say, Sergeant?" Ed asks. "Disk error? Insert CD-ROM?"

"No, it made this cheerful little musical sound, and then the screen said 'Windows Welcome', which I thought was kind of weird, since there WERE no windows, other than the ones in the building, and I'm not sure why they'd be welcome on my desk to begin with," Friday tells him. "Desks are for working on, not for windows to sit on."

"Um…okay, did you try to go online?" Ed asks. "Either with a high-speed, broadband, or dial-up Internet connection?"

"Huh?" Friday asks, clearly confused. "I have no clue what those terms are, Officer Wells. Please talk in English."

"Sheesh," Ed sighs, rolling his eyes. "Am I the ONLY one who knows ANYTHING about computers?" he asks.

"No, we all know about computers," Pete tells him, obviously amused. "But we're interested in seeing how you explain it to the dinosaur there," he says, nodding at Sergeant Friday.

"Hey, I resent being called a dinosaur!" Friday snaps at Pete. "I brought you INTO this series, son, and I can sure as hell take you out!"

"Um…Sergeant, I don't think you'd want to take Pete out on a date," Jim offers helpfully. "I don't think he…um…goes THAT way, if you know what I mean."

"Reed, will you SHUT UP?" Pete yells at him. "Of COURSE I don't go that way!"

"Maaac, Pete yelled at me and told me to shut up," Reed whines. "Make him stop!"

"Think of your happy place, Mac, think of your happy place," Mac intones to himself, his eyes closed as he tries to regulate his breathing. "You're in a store full of cowboy boots that are all just your size and they're all on sale…happy place…"

"Maaac!" Reed whines louder.

Mac sticks his fingers in his ears. "I caaan't hear you!" he sing-songs. "Lalalalala!"

"Okay, Sergeant Friday," Ed says. "I'll couch this in as easy of terms as I can. It'll be like explaining it to a three-year-old."

"That shouldn't be too hard, Ed, since you're in that age group yourself," Pete tells him wryly.

"Shut up, Blimp Butt," Ed snaps. "Did you get a little screen that said 'AOL', and then did a little voice tell you 'Welcome, you've got mail!', Sergeant?"

"Yes," Sergeant Friday says, nodding. "I did get that, which I'll admit frightened me a bit, what with the little man inside the box speaking to me like that. But when I went to check my mailbox, it was completely empty, except for a dead spider. So that little man inside the white box lied to me." He scratches his head. "And I can't figure out who in the world would mail me a dead spider. It had absolutely NO return address on it, plus no postmark and no stamp. Come to think of it, I don't think it even had MY address on it. Strange."

"Did you check the mailbox on the computer, or the actual physical mailbox outside?" Ed asks.

"The mailbox outside, why?" Sergeant Friday asks.

"You needed to check the one inside the computer, Sergeant. That's where the emails are at," Ed tells him.

"Preposterous!" Friday says. "Who ever heard of putting mail inside a computer? It wouldn't fit in that stupid little white box! And what's the point? The damned thing can't make my coffee for me, so why should I want to stick mail in it? It obviously won't get mailed!"

"Sergeant, I think you really need to consider taking some beginning computer classes at the local learning annex," Ed says, wearily rubbing his face.

"The last time I took classes at college, I was called out as a narc," Friday replies.

"But you WERE!" Chet Kelly tells him. "I know, I was IN that class!"

"What, did you have to go back and re-learn your ABC's and 123's, Chet?" Gage asks snidely. "A is for apple! B is for Ball! C is for…"

"A is for asshole, B is for butthead, and C is for shut the hell up, Gage!" Kelly snaps.

"Shows how much YOU know, Kelly," Gage says, sticking out his tongue. "C doesn't spell shut up, S does."

"M-I-C…see ya real soon! K-E-Y…why? Because we LIKE you! M-O-U-S-E…" Jim Reed sings.

Pete looks at Mac with a pleading expression. "Seriously, Mac. I want a new partner. Otherwise, I swear to God, I'm gonna end up shooting him someday.  _In the ass."_

Mac shakes his head. "Pete, I'm sorry, but we've been over this before. You're contracturally obligated to be his partner throughout syndication and dvd releases."

"Okay, so since I didn't get anything in those so-called 'emails', what exactly are the problems the Mark VII Characters are having now?" Sergeant Friday asks. "I'm opening the floor for discussion." He frowns, surveying the audience. "And keep in mind, that we are NOT discussing the music issue any further. It was discussed rather soundly in the last meeting, and there is no point in bringing it up again. The horrid go-go music and cheesy porn music is stuck on the shows' soundtracks for eternity. So just deal with it, okay?"

Brinkman raises his hand rather hesitantly. "Um…I have a question, Sergeant."

"Is it about the music?" Sergeant Friday asks. "Because if it is, I refer you to my above comments on the matter."

"No, it's about the ambulance sirens in our show," Brinkman says. "They always sounded kinda like a dying moose or Pete slowly deflating."

"Hey, I resent that, Brink!" Pete snaps.

"We can't do anything about the ambulance sirens, since that's the way they sounded back then," Sergeant Friday says.

"Well, couldn't we like, record over them or something?" Brinkman asks. "Instead of going Oooooohhhhhh…Waaahhhoooo, maybe they could sound like something else."

"Like what?" Friday asks.

"Ooh, I know!" Reed exclaims, snapping his fingers. "They could go 'I've got Pac-Man fever…Pac-Man fever…it's drivin' me crazy…drivin' me crazy…'"

"Um…no," Friday says, interrupting him. "I don't think so."

Gage raises his hand. "Ooh, Sergeant! I wanna know something!"

"Go ahead, Gage," Friday tells him.

Gage jerks a thumb at the  _Adam-12_  contingent. "How come THEY got to have a touching and emotionally deep episode like 'Elegy For A Pig', and WE never got one?"

Friday thinks for a moment. "You were an ensemble piece. Short of killing off one of the major characters,  _Emergency!_  never could've had an emotional piece like 'Elegy'."

"I know who we coulda killed off," Gage says. "Chet. We wouldn't miss him."

"Hey!" Chet cries. "What about killing off Mike or Marco instead? I'm the comic relief for the station, and neither of those two idiots did a whole helluva lot in the show!"

"Who'd drive the engine?" Mike Stoker asks. "Besides, I was a firefighter in real life, you know. I lent credibility to the show. All you ever gave it was indigestion, Chet."

"Oh, there ya go throwing up that 'Ooh, look at me…I'm a real firefighter' crap again," Kelly snaps. "Let's face it, Mike, you were just some pretty backround scenery! And so was Marco!"

"I'll remember THAT the next time you fall through a roof, Chet!" Marco says, glaring at Chet.

"And I'll remember that the next time you want help rigging up one of the Phantom's pranks!" Mike says.

"You could always run over him with the fire engine," says Pete Malloy. "Something I've often seriously considered doing to Reed."

"With a fire engine?" Reed asks. "But Pete, you can't DRIVE a fire engine! Only Adam-12!"

"I thought you guys  _had_  an emotional episode," Mac says, looking at Gage. "The one where your police officer friend, Drew, got killed."

"Oh yeah," Gage says, frowning and scratching his head. "'Frequency'. I'd forgotten  _that_  one."

"How could you have forgotten it, Johnny?" Roy asks. "Drew was your friend."

"Besides," Sergeant Friday says. "You didn't have the capability to pull off an emotional scene quite as well as Pete did when he was faced with Tom Porter's death."

"I tried to look genuinely upset over Drew's death!" Gage cries. "I thought I pulled it off quite well! I tried to be stoic as I could when I comforted Pam and the baby!"

Roy shrugs. "Eh…not so much, Johnny. With 'Elegy', you took one look at Pete Malloy and knew he was hurting inside over the loss of Porter. You could see tears glistening in his eyes. But you, Junior, you couldn't pull that off as well."

"I thought I looked sad enough," Gage says with a huff.

"Uh…no," Roy tells him gently. "You merely looked constipated."

"Whoo-hoo!" exclaims Chet. "I'm gonna bake you some Ex-Lax brownies, Gage! That'll help get rid of that constipated expression on your face and THEN some!"

"Hey, you guys had your share of emotional episodes," Pete says. "What about the one where Gage got hit by the car? That was pretty emotional, especially after Roy and Marco ended up in the hospital at the end, too, with injuries they received from a fire."

"Ooh, yeah, that bitchy nurse called you Steve Stunning, Roy!" Chet cackles. "That was hilarious!"

"You know, oddly enough, that episode is  _not_  one of my favorites," Johnny remarks.

"Why, because you got hurt?" Cap asks.

He shakes his head. "No, because I have spent the last TWO decades trying to figure out what was up with that drunk chick in the bar in the first place. I mean, my God, she looked like she'd put her makeup on in the dark with a blindfold over her eyes or something. I was SERIOUSLY hoping I wouldn't have to give her mouth-to-mouth. I didn't want my lips getting anywhere NEAR her. She looked like she woulda tasted like stale beer and old cigarettes and…and…"

"Upholstery?" Reed offers helpfully.

"No," Johnny says, squinting as he thinks. "Old feet. That's it. Stale beer, cigarettes, and old feet."

"Besides, as far as emotional episodes, we ended up having a bit of a problem with 'Elegy' in the long run," Pete says.

"Why, what happened?" Captain Stanley asks.

"Well, since it was created before the advent of VCRs and DVDs, we thought we could get away shooting a non-canon episode and no one would notice the storyline was out of whack. Unfortunately, with the release of the show on videotape and dvd, folks have realized it was completely out of line with the rest of the series," Pete tells him.

"Oh yeah, the internet chat rooms light up when they air THAT episode," Ed Wells adds. "Fans LOVE to bicker about the true meaning of the episode, and whether it was actually meant as canon or non-canon."

"So?" Stanley shrugs. "What was the big deal?"

"A lot of the plot was inconsistent with previously written storylines," Pete sighs. "In 'Elegy', Reed was a bachelor, my time on the force was less than the previously mentioned seven years, and my training officer in my rookie year wasn't Val Moore. Plus, I was shown as being comfortable holding the Porter baby, while it was intimated in 'A Different Thing' that I hadn't held a baby before and was reluctant to hold Jimmy Jr. when Jim handed him to me."

"Yeah, and the stunt double didn't match," Mac adds. "The guy who was portraying Pete during the fight at the cement block factory didn't look like him at all."

"That's actually happened a couple of times," Pete says. "In the episode 'I.A.D', the guy who gets slammed into the rear of the truck and knocked down in front of the forklift isn't me, plus in the episode 'Easy, Bare Rider', the scene towards the end where I chase the suspect onto the playground and he climbs up on the monkey bars in order to take me by surprise, the guy who gets kicked in the back isn't me, it's my stunt double."

"Yeah, you can tell it's not Pete," Mac says. "The stunt double is stockier and has dark hair." Mac looks at Sergeant Friday. "You know, for someone who was such a stickler for detail, you kinda let that one slip by you."

"Hey, it wasn't like there were a whole lot of freckled guys with strawberry-blonde hair running around out there in Hollywood," Friday says defensively. "The only one we could've hired outside of Ron Howard was Martin Milner. And sure, I'll admit, we had some issues with continuity and editing that weren't always caught."

"Hey, I know of another issue besides unmatched stunt doubles and non-canon episodes," Pete says. "How come they didn't put any extras on the season three DVD set of  _Adam-12_?" he asks. "Fans were wanting a blooper reel, plus maybe some interviews with the cast members."

Sergeant Friday shrugs. "Well, they couldn't very well do an interview with some of the cast members being dead now, could they?"

"You…you…you mean we're DEAD?" Reed asks in astonishment. "I don't remember getting THAT email! And what about my funeral? I don't recall it at all!" He looks at Pete, grabbing onto Pete's shoulders. "Pete, I don't wanna be dead! I'm way too cute for that!" He shakes Pete frantically.

"Re-ee-ee-ed, sta-aw-aw-p sh-sh-sha-king m-m-me," Pete says, his teeth being rattled in his head by Jim's shake.

"But I don't wanna be dead!" Reed wails in fear. "Please tell me I'm not dead!" His butt begins tweeting again.

Pete slaps him, forcing Reed to stop shaking him. "Calm down!" he hisses, shoving Reed away. "You're not dead, so relax! And QUIT FARTING!"

"Maaac!" Reed cries, hand to his face where Pete smacked him. "Pete slapped me! Can I slap him back?"

"You know, I think I might take you up on your offer of a trade," Mac says to Captain Stanley, ignoring Reed. "Anything's gotta be better than these two."

"The only way you could be dead anyway is if Pete accidentally ate you, Jim," says Brinkman.

"Thanks a lot, Brink!" Pete growls, glaring at Brinkman. "Like I'd ever do that to my partner!"

Reed eyes him warily. "I dunno, Pete. The other day, when I accidentally dripped some barbecue sauce on my uniform, you suddenly began looking at me like I had turned into a rack of baby back ribs or something."

"I'm just curious," Mac says. "Who out of our cast is dead, Sergeant?"

"Well, Ed Wells is, for one," Sergeant Friday tells him. "You are, for another."

"Wait," Mac gasps in shock. "I'M dead? When the hell did THAT happen?"

"Oh, a few years ago," Sergeant Friday says.

"Yep, I know  _I'm_  most certainly dead," Ed says, leaning back in his chair with a self-satisfied smirk. "I'm up in Heaven now, playing golf with my dad and Bob Hope."

"I thought you hated your dad," Pete says. "You wrote that tell-all 'Daddy Dearest' book about him."

Ed shrugs. "Eh…God kinda frowns on holding grudges in Heaven. It upsets the karmic balance up there. Everyone is supposed to get along with everyone else. There's no quarrels, no jealousy, and if you didn't get along with your parents on Earth, you'll get along with them in Heaven, or get sent to Hell for punishment. Which, in my case, would consist of being forced to sing 'Play A Simple Melody' with Satan himself."

"Who's his dad?" Reed whispers to Pete.

"Bing Crosby," Pete replies.

"Um…Sergeant, are any of US dead?" John Gage asks, gesturing to his fellow castmates.

"Yeah, both Dixie and Joe Early are," Sergeant Friday says. "And of course, I'm dead, too. In fact, I died long before any of you did."

"Am I dead?" Bill Gannon asks, looking confused. "I kinda think maybe I am, and if I AM, this sure doesn't look like Heaven to me."

"No, you're still alive," Friday assures him.

"Huh, so, it must just FEEL like I'm dead," Gannon says.

"Hey man, as old as you are, whaddya expect?" Chet Kelly asks.

"If you're dead, Mac, then can you feel this?" Jim Reed asks, leaning forward and pinching Mac on the upper arm.

"OW!" Mac yelps, turning around in his seat to glare at Reed. "Yes, I can feel that, you idiot!"

Reed stares at him, eyes wide with fear. "Sooo…if you're dead, but you're in a flesh-and-blood body…does that mean you're some kind of ZOMBIE?" he asks, his voice quivering slightly.

"We've been over this before, Reed, we're in SYNDICATION," Mac tells him. "You never die in syndication, you just get taken off the air."

"Speaking of getting taken off the air, I understand some of WNTV's affliates have taken  _Adam-12_  and  _Emergency!_ off of their line-ups," Dr. Brackett says. "Now how in the world are we supposed to appeal to younger viewers not familiar with our shows when they first aired?"

"Yes, it's WNTV's attempt to control the universe," Sergeant Friday says. "Really, if they had their way, we'd ALL be taken off the air and replaced by 'Leave It To Beaver' reruns. They could care less if we appeal to younger viewers now."

"Ugh," says Pete, shuddering. "I never liked that show. I coulda LEFT it to Beaver, for all that I cared."

"You know, that's funny, Pete, considering that both the Beaver and Wally made guest appearances on our shows," Mac says.

"Yeah, Wally even turned up in one of our episodes," Gage says. "He was a looter on a motorcycle who wrecked in a canyon during a huge brushfire. Guess Eddie Haskell musta really turned him on to the dark side."

"Hey," Reed says, snapping his fingers. "We had Eddie Munster on our show a couple of times. I had NO clue vampires could come out in the daylight, let alone completely change their looks like that. Instead of having black hair and white skin, he had red hair and freckles." He muses for a moment. "And had he been older, he woulda made a great stunt double for Pete."

"Speaking of daylight, I'm a bit curious," Roy DeSoto says. "How come, in some of our scenes, it's nighttime out, then it suddenly switches to daylight, then back to nighttime, all within the same scene thread? Or vice versa. How in the world do you do that, Sergeant?"

"Yeah, that happens in our shows, too," Pete adds. "In the episode 'Tell Him He Pushed Back A Little Too Hard', some of the shots are supposed to be at night, yet it's clearly quite sunny out."

"Um…that would be called an error in editing," Sergeant Friday says.

"Yeah, you had a lot of that sometimes," Pete tells him. "In some of our episodes, in the in-car shots that show Reed's hand writing down the information on the hotsheet desk, he's clearly wearing a LONG-sleeved uniform. And that's in some of the episodes that we are wearing our SHORT-sleeved uniforms. It's pretty disconcerting to see, you know."

"It's also not my hand," Reed tells him.

Pete looks at him, eyebrows raised. "Then whose hand IS it?" he asks.

"It was a stand-in hand," Reed says. Suddenly, he snaps his fingers, grinning. "Hey, it was a HAND-IN!" he giggles. "Get it?"

"Unfortunately, yes," Pete replies with a sigh, rolling his eyes.

"Like I said, we had a few minor issues with editing and continuity," Sergeant Friday says. "It's only to be expected. No show is perfect, after all."

"Yeah, and in keeping with that line of thinking," Mac says. "I have a bit of a problem."

"What's that, Sergeant?" Friday asks.

"Well, you know, in the episode of  _Emergency!_ when they're all watching 'Ambush'," Mac begins.

"Yes, we covered that issue before," Friday says, a bit impatiently. "Who knew years down the road that the shows would be released on DVD and viewed by fans with an incredible eye for each nitpicky little detail? And yes, we've established in YOUR episode of 'Lost And Found' that Pete and Jim could cross into the realm of  _Emergency!_  without any problems. In fact, they did it twice. Once in 'Lost And Found' and the other time in the pilot episode for  _Emergency!"_

"You know, I could never figure out why that sick kid that wanted the puppy was kinda orange-colored in 'Lost And Found'," Reed says, scratching his head. "I mean, yeah, he had diabetes, but as far as I know, diabetes doesn't turn you into an Oompa-Loompa."

"I'm gonna turn YOU into an Oompa-Loompa, Reed," Pete tells him.

"Maaac," Reed whimpers. "Pete's threatening to turn me into an Oompa-Loompa. Make him stop!"

"Hey, do you MIND?" Mac snaps. "I had the floor here!"

"Mac, you CAN'T have the floor, it's still under our feet!" Reed says, pointing.

"Pete, you know, I'm really beginning to feel sorry for you," Mac says dryly.

"Oh, sure, NOW you sympathize with me," Pete sighs. "What about all the OTHER times he was bugging the hell outta me?"

"Sergeant MacDonald, what was the issue you had with 'Hang-Up' and 'Ambush'?" Sergeant Friday asks. "The one that we evidently DIDN'T cover the first time."

"Well, Marco appears in 'Ambush' as a sheriff's deputy," Mac begins. "And in 'Hang-Up', he a firefighter WATCHING 'Ambush' on tv. Soooo, that would mean Marco the fireman is watching Marco the sheriff's deputy on tv…isn't that something of a paradox? Or a rift in the space-time contiuum?"

"Yo quiero Taco Bell!" Marco exclaims. "No WONDER I get a headache whenever I watch our shows! And it's even worse when I show up on all three of them! I've played anyone from cops to crooks on  _Dragnet,_ cops on  _Adam-12,_  and a fireman on  _Emergency!_ "

"I used you a lot on  _Dragnet_  because you were my stand-in," Sergeant Friday says. "And since you were already on the lot for that show, I went ahead and also used you in  _Adam-12_ when needed. It was a lot easier than hiring another actor to fill the various minor roles."

"Yeah, but you gotta admit, you kinda had a bad habit of using the same actors over and over again in all three shows," Mac says. "Even  _I_  showed up on all three shows, as a cop or a detective on  _Dragnet_ , and Chief McConnike on  _Emergency!_ "

"Hey, the guy who plays Captain Grant on our show has done the same thing," Pete says. "He's not only our captain, but he's also a captain on  _Dragnet_ , and a battalion chief on  _Emergency!"_

"Yeah, that happens with Val Moore, too. He shows up on all three series," Dr. Brackett says. "But outside of Marco and Johnny, the only other member of our cast to show up on all three series is Dr. Early."

"Yeah…" Reed says, squinting at him. "I remember you now, Doc. You were a drug dealer in our episode 'The Princess And The Pig'. You wanted to buy heroin from me."

Dixie gasps in shock. "Joe, is that TRUE?"

"Ehh…" Dr. Early shrugs. "Yeah, so what? I'm also a high-stakes gambler on an episode of  _Dragnet_ , among other roles."

"No kidding?" Roy DeSoto asks in amazement. "You're a high-stakes gambler, Doc? In what game? Texas Hold 'Em?"

"No," Dr. Early tells him. "Go Fish. And I'm pretty good at kicking ass in Crazy Eights and War."

"Whoa, Doc, that's unreal!" John Gage says. "Who knew kindly old Dr. Early had a dark side to him?"

"Hey, I've appeared on  _Dragnet, Emergency,_ and  _Adam-12,_  all three too," Reed says. "In  _Dragnet_ , I've played a plain old uniformed cop a few times, then I played Paul Culver, an undercover cop who gets that fabulous speech on 'What A Cop Is' delivered to him by Sergeant Friday."

"Yeah, anyone wanna hear it?" Friday offers. "I've got it memorized."

"NO!" everyone exclaims in unison.

"Reed, I've been on  _Dragnet_  too," Pete says. "Besides the time we showed up in the internal affairs episode, I also played Sergeant Friday's partner while the show was still on the radio, plus I played in several of the early tv episodes, the ones that were in black and white."

"Yeah, you played a kid pushing dirty books," Mac says.

"Why would Pete push dirty books?" Reed asks with curiosity. "Who got them dirty in the first place? And why would anyone want to buy books if they're dirty? I know I wouldn't. I'd want my books to be clean."

"No," Mac says with irritation. "They weren't dirty because somebody GOT them dirty, Reed, they were dirty because they were pornographic."

"Ooh, so Pete really DID poke Punxsutawney!" Chet crows. "Tell me Pete, did you do Dallas with Debbie, too?"

"No, he ATE Dallas with Debbie," Ed Wells says wryly.

"Wait a sec," Reed says. "I always thought the big question on Dallas was not who ATE Dallas or DID Dallas, but who shot J.R.?"

"Excush me," J. Simmons says, awakening from his chair. "But I have only had the pleashure of appearing on two… _hic_ …two… _hic…_  two of the sheriessh.  _Adamsh-12_ and  _Dragnetsh_. And that Dirty Ernie promished me I'd be a movie shtar! That Dirty Ernie! Justsh wait until I get my handsh on him!" He drops his head back to his chest and promptly begins snoring again.

"You know, I liked you a lot better when you appeared on our show sober, Mr. J. Simmons," Pete mutters. "And pushing a huge safe down the street with two cans of beer inside of it."

"Yeah, Bernie Ryan's showed up in the series, too," Mac says. "He played an escaped convict who took Pete hostage in a diner, plus he played a robber who took a couple of folks hostage in a grocery store. Then he showed up on  _Emergency!_  as the owner of a gumball machine that some kid got his finger stuck in. Same thing with Ronne Troup. And the guy who played Steve Deal."

"Actually, I don't think Steve Deal ever showed up in any of our episodes," Dr. Brackett says.

"Yeah, and Al Porter was the Ferret before he was Al Porter," Reed adds. "Plus he was that guy whose kid had Goldman-Sachs disease on  _Emergency!_ "

"Okay, okay," Friday sighs. "So I used stock actors from my acting stable all the time. What was wrong with that?"

"Nothing, I guess," Mac says, shrugging. "But you know, you could almost make a drinking game out of it. You know, every time you spot the same actor guest-starring on all three shows, everyone takes a drink."

Ed Wells raises his hand. "I have a question, Sergeant."

"Go ahead, Officer Wells," Friday tells him.

"What ever happened to the spin-offs of our shows?" Ed asks. He jabs his thumb at Pete and Jim. "I mean, I was supposed to leave THESE yokels behind and land a job as the director of an animal shelter in '905 Wild'."

"Oh yeah, the goat episode," Roy says. "Can't forget that one."

"I wish I could," Dr. Brackett moans. "That cheesy line I had to utter about the thousands of dollars of high-tech equipment and doctorly talent, and we couldn't save one damned little baby goat." He shakes his head. "I was never so embarrassed in all my life until I uttered that line."

"Hey, that old guy that played the little girl's grandpa ALSO appeared on all three series a whole bunch of times!" Brinkman exclaims. "In many various roles! Do I win the drinking game?"

"No, Brink," Ed sighs. "For one thing, we're not playing it yet, and for another, we don't have anything to drink, in case you haven't noticed."

"We could all go stand around J. Simmons," Mac says, jerking a thumb at the happy drunk. "I'm sure we could get at least a contact high from inhaling the fumes emanating from him."

"Uh…Mac, I don't all that's alcohol coming from him," Ed Wells says warily. "I don't think I wanna be sniffing ALL that."

"And what about 'Fraud', with Frank Sinatra, Jr. and Sharon Gless?" Mac asks.

"That one tanked, unfortunately," Friday says. "The world wasn't ready for the Neopolitan Meatball."

Pete begins to snort with laughter. "That's what you actually CALLED Frank Sinatra Jr.? The Neopolitan Meatball? How dumb!"

"Hey, Malloy, I wouldn't be talking!" Ed Wells warns. "At least when HE took Marilyn out, he wasn't wearing those hideous striped pants!"

"What was wrong with those pants?" Pete cries. "I thought they looked good on me!"

"Pete," Reed says. "I'll try to say this as gently as I can. Whenever you wear those awful striped pants, you make me wanna go to the circus. They put me in mind of the Big Top, and I half-expect a bunch of happy clowns to come scooting out from underneath the hems of those pants, like they're coming out of their funny little car."

"Yeah, and a word of advice, Pete," Brink adds. "I'd quit wearing that t-shirt with the contrasting horizontal stripes on it. As pudgy as you are, it only adds to your girth, instead of detracting from it. You kinda look like a giant roll of Lifesavers."

"Mmm…Lifesavers," Reed murmurs. He looks at the first Jean Reed. "Hey honey, do you have any of those delicious fuzzy mints at the bottom of your purse?"

"And while we're talking makeover, Pete," Mac adds. "You really need to consider ditching that crappy yellow car of yours and getting yourself a Mustang again. Mustangs are totally cool, while your car looks as if it's the resulting love vehicle of a Comet-Pinto affair."

"Hey, you're one to give fashion advice, Reed!" Pete tells him sharply. "I'm not the one who wore mandals to work several times. If I wanted to see your hairy little Hobbit feet, I'd ask! And I DON'T!" He glowers at Brinkman. "And as far as me being pudgy on a series, I wasn't the only one! Besides Mac, Roy DeSoto also porked up there in season four!"

"Yeah, he's got a point there, partner," Johnny says, eyeing Roy. "You DID get pretty plump yourself."

"Hey, I wasn't the one who was in dire need of a haircut by season six!" Roy snaps.

"No," Johnny snorts, laughing. "You were just in dire need of some hair, period!"

"Hey, you could shave some off of Chet, he's pretty hairy, and I don't think he'd miss it," Mike Stoker offers.

"Or how about taking some off of Dr. Morton?" Marco asks.

"OH NO!" Dr. Morton cries. "Ain't NONE of you white-bread honkies touchin' my 'fro!" He puts his hands protectively over his hair. "Do you KNOW how long it takes to get it like this?" he asks.

"By the way, I need to remind you, Mike, that when your…um…'fro', as you call it, is so huge that you cannot fit through the double doors of the ambulance bay, you really need to use some Jheri Curl to straighten it down a bit," Dr. Brackett tells him. "Not only were you blocking gurney traffic from the parking lot, when you finally made it inside, you got a bunch of IV poles caught in it, along with a couple of student nurses, an orderly, three patients, Dr. Early, a cleaning cart, an X-ray machine, two technicians, five overhead lights, eight patient charts, a crash cart, the coffee machine, AND you managed to knock a whole bunch of crap off of the shelves at the nurses' station."

"All he needed was a partridge in a pear tree," Reed says, sotto voce to Pete.

"Hey, all I can say is the 'fro gots to go where the 'fro gots to go," Dr. Morton replies.

"Yes, well, perhaps the 'fro would like to be suspended from duty the next time that happens," Dr. Brackett says.

"Well, okay," Dr. Morton sighs. "It  _was_  kinda annoying to have people trying to get a cup of coffee from my hair that day."

"Are there any other issues?" Sergeant Friday asks, looking around the room.

"Ooh, ooh! I've got one!" Reed says, waving his hand in the air. "Ooh, ooh! Me! I've got one!"

"Go ahead, Horshack," Sergeant Friday says, rolling his eyes.

"I'm not Horshack, I'm Jim Reed," Reed says with confusion.

"What's the issue?" Sergeant Friday asks, slightly irritated.

"Is it true that after  _Adam-12_  ended, you had wanted to resurrect  _Dragnet,_  with me as your partner instead of Bill Gannon?" Reed asks.

"Ooh, yeah, if you want him for your partner, you've got him!" Pete says. "I will GLADLY give him up in a heartbeat."

"Yes, that was the idea," Sergeant Friday says. "I had intended to replace Bill with a younger model, preferably one that doesn't sleep through most of our cases, and fart all the time in the unmarked car."

"Huh?" says Bill Gannon with a start, awakening once more with confusion. "Father Mulcahy, did you just call my name?"

"I dunno," Pete says, eyeing Reed warily. "Reed does that a lot now on OUR cases and in MY squad car."

"Hey, you do it, too!" Reed says defensively. "Don't think I'm not capable of hearing OR smelling anything in that car myself!"

"But I don't SLEEP in the car like you do sometimes," Pete points out.

"I told you that one time that I fell asleep by accident, it was because Jimmy had kept us up all night with colic, and that's all!" Reed says.

"God, that's gotta be the only 41-year old baby with colic," Brinkman remarks.

"So what happened to that idea of pairing me up with you?" Reed asks Friday. "The studios didn't go for it?"

"No," Friday replies. "I died before that series idea could even be really brought to fruition. Now, are there any MORE issues that need to be addressed?" he asks.

"Yeah, there's still some problems with WNTV," says Pete. "Not only have some of the affiliates taken our shows out of rotation on their local channels, but the ones that DO still carry us, have a habit of repeating the same episodes from a single season, over and over again, without ever moving on to the NEXT season."

"We covered that the last time," Sergeant Friday says. "Apparently WNTV feels it's up to the individual affiliates to air the episodes they want. Sometimes they're hampered by lack of availability of individual episodes, other times they're just plain damned dirt lazy and can't get off their asses in order to change the different seasons as they occur in the timeline of the show. That's why they also skip episodes, especially key episodes in each series. It depends on what color their mood ring is that day and how much they want to piss off their viewers."

"They also totally suck at cutting for commercials," Pete says. "In all of our series, there's obvious designated breaks during the individual episodes in order to cut away from the storyline, so that the parent station can show commercials hawking life insurance, power chairs, LifeAlert pendants, or extended car warranties. But, instead of WNTV USING the obvious breaks to cut to commercial, they often break right in the middle of an action-packed scene, leaving the viewer hanging and frustrated, since oftentimes, when they return to the episode, the action is already over with." Pete shrugs. "I mean, I dunno HOW many times Reed and I have been in a tense situation, with the situation  _just about to be resolved_  in ten seconds, and BOOM! suddenly there's some little old lady lying on a floor, yelling that she's fallen and she can't get up. By the time the commercials are over with and the show has returned, the situation has resolved and we've moved on to the next scene. It's very frustrating."

Friday shrugs. "There's nothing we can do about that. It's extremely poor editing on their part, if they can't use the obviously designated cuts in the episodes to break for commercials, and instead, insert their own cuts. That's why WNTV is a prime example of why a television network should NOT let hyperactive gerbils hopped up on Ritalin and amphetamines decide how to run the network and its subsequent programming."

"Soo…" Mac says. "Basically you're saying that WNTV retains the rights to screw with our shows, correct?"

Friday nods. "Yep. Looks that way. Of course, fans of the shows are always encouraged to seek out other avenues for viewing their favorite episodes, like getting Netflix, for example. And there's always the dvds that have been released, too, by Universal and Shout! Factory."

"Yeah, and Universal obviously cut corners on OUR dvds, too," Captain Stanley grumbles. "There are NO extras at all, and on the season five set, at least one viewer noticed a horizontal green line that kept flipping through the end of the very crucial season finale, 'The Nuisance'."

"Yeah, and I've heard some people complaining that the discs don't always play," John Gage adds. "On the Universal releases from our series and  _Dragnet_ , plus the first season of  _Adam-12_."

"And who's idea was it to stick  _Adam-12_ 's 'Lost And Found' episode on our season five disc set?" Roy asks. "In my opinion,  _Adam-12_  should stick to  _Adam-12_ , and not be parked on a dvd set for our show."

"It was a crossover," Sergeant Friday explains. "And since both shows fall under the same parent company, it was decided that that episode could be released on your disc set."

"Yeah, but that's not fair!" Roy says. "You don't see OUR show hijacking its way onto one of THEIR discs, do you?"

Friday sighs wearily. "That's because you never crossed OVER into their show, they crossed over into YOURS. Besides, your dvds are released by Universal, while  _Adam-12_ 's are released by Shout! Factory."

"Hey, all I'm sayin' is, I wish they'd keep  _Adam-12_  out of our  _Emergency!_  It gets really confusing, what with all the crossovers and crap. They don't belong on our discs any more than we belong on theirs," Roy says. He looks back at the  _Adam-12_  contingent seated behind him. "No disrespect meant to you guys or anything," he says.

"Oh, none taken," says Pete, smiling brightly at Roy. "By the way, Roy…um…just out of curiosity…what kind of car is it that you drive?"

"It's a beige Porsche," Roy replies.

"Mmm-hmm," Pete says, nodding. "Any chance you happen to know the license plate?" he asks.

"It's California…hey, wait a minute, you're planning on hassling me, aren't you?" Roy asks, glaring at Pete.

"Who, me?" Pete asks innocently. "Nah. I'd NEVER do a thing like that."

"But I might," Ed Wells smirks.

"Well, there ya go, pally," Johnny says, patting Roy on the shoulder. "You just went and screwed yourself over with the LAPD. You can bet that your car and license plate is gonna be tagged from now on. Every time you run across a cop, they're gonna stick to you like a cockroach in a Roach motel."

"Um…are you calling the LAPD cockroaches, Gage?" Mac asks.

"Oh…uh…no!" Johnny says hastily. "I meant absolutely no offense whatsoever by that term. It was just the first thing that came to my mind, that's all."

"We'll remember that the next time they want crowd control at a fire scene," Brinkman whispers to Ed.

"Actually, canonically speaking, the Los Angeles Police Department and the Los Angeles County Fire Department are two separate entities and would have absolutely no reason to work together, unless in an extreme circumstance or other extenutating cases," pipes up a knowledgable, but nerdy-sounding voice from the doorway of the room. Everyone in the room turns in their seats to look at the newcomer. "Their jurisdictions are entirely separate from one another. County law enforcement and fire issues are strictly handled by deputies and county firefighters, while city law enforcement and fire issues are strictly handled by city police officers and city firefighters."

"Oh NO!" Johnny groans, as he realizes who is speaking. "Craig Brice!"

"Yes, Gage, it is I," Craig Brice says, striding into the room. "I understand this is a meeting of the Mark VII characters, correct?" he asks, looking at Sergeant Friday.

"It is," Friday says. "But you're too late, kid. The meeting is nearly over." He looks at his watch. "In fact, I think I've already missed 'Gilligan's Island', but I'll be damned if I'm gonna miss 'The Brady Bunch'."

"So, I've missed it?" Brice asks. "I was SURE my email stated that the time of the meeting was at 7 pm."

"Heh heh," Johnny giggles, nudging Roy. "I kinda hacked into his computer and changed the time in the mass email sent out," he whispers. "And wanna know something? His password into his email account is 'Briceis#1', and his email name is 'IluvCraigBrice4ever'."

"So…I cannot address the audience at all?" Brice asks, clearly annoyed. "I had some issues I wanted to discuss!"

"Tell ya what, kid," Friday says. "Table 'em until the next meeting, and you can speak then. We'll shift into a whole new paradigm and think outside the box, and all that happy crap."

"But…" Brice cries. "I wanted to…"

Friday looks around the room. "This second meeting of the Mark VII Characters is now closed." He bangs the gavel on the podium, and the head flies off, hitting Craig Brice right in the middle of his forehead.

"Um…Craig, you okay, there?" Gage asks.

"Wow! I coulda had a V-8!" Brice exclaims, rubbing his forehead. "Suddenly, I feel like…like…like just going out and hugging everyone I see!" He twirls in a tight circle, clapping his hands with joy. "Oh, I'm so HAPPY right now!" he trills. "I just wanna take everyone in this room out for a nice pizza dinner and some beer! We'll let our hair down and chat about  _everything_! I just LOVE all of you!" He begins to blow kisses to the assembled crowd. He waves his hand at them. "C'mon, everybody, let's go get something to eat, my treat!" He skips out of the room, singing. "I'm walking on sunshine…ooh yeah…I'm walking on sunshine…oh-ho, and it's startin' to feel GOOD!"

"Call me crazy, but I think I LIKE this new Brice," Johnny says to Roy.

"Yeah, but we should really get him to the hospital and get him checked out," Roy says. "Just to make sure he's not hurt too bad."

"Are you KIDDING?" Johnny asks. "Let's let him treat us to dinner, first, pally!"

"Yeah, I could go for pizza right now," Pete says, standing up.

"Pete, you could go for pizza anytime," Reed tells him.

"Or any food, for that matter," Mac adds.

"Did I hear shomeone menshun beer and pizsha?" J. Simmons asks, waking up from his seat in the corner. "If they did, then I shall be only to happy to partake." He stands up, swaying slightly. "Becaush I musht shay, this meeting hash shertainly lack… _hic_ …lack... _hic_ …lacked amenitish." He begins to wobble towards the door. "Hold up, my fine and fanshy friend!" he calls to Brice. "Let me have my friend, that Dirty Ernie, drive ush to a dinner locashun in hish cab!" He staggers out of the room in pursuit of Brice.

"Hey, Dix, what say we let Joe and Mike drive the ambulance back to the hospital, while you and I sit in the back of the rig and play 'CPR'?" Dr. Brackett asks Dixie.

"Only if I'm the one on top giving mouth-to-mouth," Dixie giggles. Kel pinches her butt and she slaps his hand playfully. "Wait until we're back at the hospital," she says. "Then you can check me out and see if that myocardial infarction I think I'm having is real or imagined."

"Oh-ho!" Brackett says with delight. "I get to play with my stethoscope again!"

"C'mon, Joe, let's go," Dr. Morton says to Dr. Early. "We've gotta drive the rig back while the two love bunnies snog in the back end."

"You can drive, Mike," Joe advises. "I'm still trying to remember the surgery patients I was supposed to have had."

"You think Brice is serious about treating us all to pizza and beer?" Captain Stanley asks.

"I dunno," Johnny says. "But I'm all for taking advantage of free beer and pizza."

"I can't," Stoker pouts. "I hafta drive the fire engine. Roy can't have beer either, since he has to drive the squad."

"Well, tell ya what, pal," Chet offers, draping his arm around Mike's shoulder. "Cap, Marco, Johnny, and I will drink your share for you, how about that?"

"How about you take your arm offa me before I tear it off for you?" Mike asks. "And then feed it to you, Chet?"

"Ooh, sounds like Mikey's got a bit of a dark side," Chet observes.

"It's always the quiet ones, too," Cap says.

"What about my leftover five-bean chili?" Marco asks. "I thought we'd have that for our dinner tonight."

"Nah, we'll feed it to Henry, see if eating THAT makes that damned dog move," Cap tells him.

"Okay, but I ain't sittin' next to Henry AT ALL!" Marco warns.

"Hey, Pete, I have an idea," Ed Wells says.

"I get the feeling it's gonna be a bad idea, if it's from you, Ed," Pete sighs.

"No, it's a good one," Ed says. "How about we call Jenny Craig and ask her if she'll dump that insipid Valerie Bertinelli as her spokesperson, and hire you instead?"

"Because that would involve Pete actually LOSING weight," Brinkman says. "And let's face it, that's too much hard work. He'd seriously hafta watch what he eats."

"Hey, I watch what I eat now!" Pete says.

"Yeah, you watch it go right into your mouth," Reed replies. "Ooh, that was a zinger!" he laughs. "Chalk one up for me!" he says, licking his finger and making an imaginary chalk mark in the air.

Pete grabs Reed's arm and proceeds to give him a wicked Indian burn. "There's a chalk mark for ya," he snaps.

"Maaac…" Reed whines. "Pete just gave me an Indian burn. Make him stop it!"

"Happy place, Mac, happy place," Mac mutters to himself.

"And for the last time, I AM NOT FAT!" Pete shouts. "I'm merely plumply proportioned right now!"

"Yeah, you look like a bear getting ready to hibernate," Judy observes.

"Oh, who asked YOU, you dead Lucille Ball!" Pete growls at her.

"Jiiiimmmm," the second incarnation of Jean Reed whines. "I need somebody to drive me home!"

"Ask dead Lucille Ball if she'll take you home," Jim says. "I ain't interested in you, toots."

"What about me?" the first Jean asks, batting her eyes coyly at Jim. "Are you interested in me?"

"Mmm…" Jim thinks. "Nah, I think I'm more interested in that free pizza right now. And maybe Hungry Hungry Hippos later on."

A guy sticks his head into the room. "Any of you folks know the singing guy who just left here?" he asks.

"We do," Johnny says. "Why?"

"He's stripped himself naked and is playing in the lawn sprinklers," the man tells him. "Says he wants to feel the water beating down like rain on his skin. He's also singing 'Free To Be…You And Me'. Somebody might wanna capture him before security tasers him in the 'nads."

"And that would be a bad thing, HOW?" Johnny asks. "I'd actively encourage it. It might put a halt on any future Craig Brices springing forth from his loins."

Roy looks at his junior partner. "I have one word for you, Johnny," he says. "EWWW!" He grimaces.

TWEEET! goes Reed.

Pete gives him a wary look. "Did you just fart again?" he asks.

Reed looks at Pete innocently. "No," he says. "Why?" And he promptly goes TWEEET again.

"If you don't stop farting, I'm making you hang your ass out of the window of Adam-12," Pete warns as he leaves the room.

TWEEET! Reed replies. "Well, at least I know that the whistle has MOSTLY passed through," he says, whistling like a teakettle as he follows Pete.

Sergeant Friday watches the Mark VII characters as they file out of the room, still bickering amongst themselves. Only Bill Gannon is left, having fallen asleep again in his chair. Friday stares out at the now-vacant room, deep in thought. He looks up at the ceiling and begins to speak. "Hey, writer-lady…Bamboozwhatsis…are you still there?"

_Bamboozlepig. Yeah, I'm still here, unfortunately. Why? You have yet another rousing and moralistic preach-speech you wanna give, Sergeant? One, perhaps, on the evils of modern television or something?_

"No," he says, shaking his head. "Not that. I'm kinda curious about something."

_Okay, shoot._

"Why exactly WERE the Evil Dumperor and the Dork Lord pursuing the Mark VII Characters across space?" he asks.

_Um…really they…um…the Dork Lord…uh…he…they…I think they...er..._

"You don't really know, do you?" he asks.

_Um…no. I do not. It was something funny I made up for the beginning of the story._

"So there really IS no Dork Lord or Evil Dumperor, is there?" he asks. "They were just created out of your sick and twisted little mind, weren't they?"

_Yeah, pretty much._

"Figures," he scoffs. "Okay, I have one more question for you, if you don't mind."

_What? And make it snappy, I'm missing a rerun of "Family Guy."_

He scratches his head, frowning. "Well, I was just wondering if you had bothered to take notes. I mean, that was kinda the whole point of asking you to sit in on the meeting in the first place."

_Ohhh...smeg…_

_**Will the strikingly bold and dashily handsome Pete Malloy ever slim down again? Will his faithful Snookie partner, Jim Reed, ever figure out the correct lyrics to the songs that he sings? And will his butt finally quit whistling? Will John Gage ever get a haircut? Will Roy ever discover hair plugs? Does Boot ever give up his seafaring life in order to return to Station 51? Will the torrid romance between Head Nurse Dixie McCall and Dr. Kelly Brackett continue, or does Dixie dump him for the next man on her list, the strikingly bold and dashily handsome Captain Hank Stanley? Does Dr. Early ever recall his surgery patients? And what exactly does the term "smeg" mean? Tune in to the next sequel…Or will there even BE another sequel?**_   ** _Only the writer-lady knows! BWUHAHAHAHAHA!_**


End file.
